The Nerevarine and The Witcher
by dtlord32
Summary: After a botched expedition to Akavir, the Nerevarine finds himself in a world where elves are persecuted, human intrigue abounds, and monsters run the wild. Soon our hero will be caught in events that'll forever change this world. Just another adventure for the Dunmer. Cover image was done by u/XIIIsora on Reddit.
1. Expedition Gone Wrong

**Chapter 1: Expedition Gone Wrong**

**_3E 432, 5th of Last Seed_**

It's been two months since I've embarked on my expedition to Akavir. A month of finding the right ships, amount of supplies, and people willing to sail with me. And now a month at sea, our boat creaked as waves clashed against its hulls and sleep hard come by as we passed through a storm every now and then. The crew has been nervous throughout the whole trip, seasickness aside some threatened mutiny but I was quickly able to persuade them down. Still, quite a few jumped and drowned than to stay any longer. I feel as though they'll sail back to Tamriel as soon as we land in Akavir, stranding me in unknown lands. I wouldn't blame them.

After what just happened, I can't stay in Morrowind nor Tamriel for the matter. Killing Almalexia has broken something inside me, my past life creeping into my memories. She was my wife in the past and we fought together with the other Tribunal as friends. True, she did betray me but some part of me could not but feel sorrow. And now that sorrow has crept into me just as it was in Nerevar before dying. I just need to get away from it all at least for a while. Nothing interesting in Tamriel but no one's not heard anything in Akavir. New cultures, new people, and cities scream to me lots of adventuring.

But from I've heard and read, it might be the only place that could threaten me. I made sure to absolutely pack everything I needed, all my money, gems, potions, knives, a couple of ebony daggers and my twin blades, Trueflame and Hopesfire. I also made sure to procure myself a new set of glass armor, the spikes protruding removed, enchantments to make me stronger and silent, and it's been completely reworked to fit me and only me. And for missions that require absolute stealth, I managed to find a discreet smith to improve the Dark Brotherhood armor. While it is ironic to wear the armor of an assassin that tried to kill you, I can't help but appreciate its look and effectiveness in stealth. I couldn't count how many times someone saw me up close yet did not notice me. Let's hope its enough for Akavir.

**_End Journal_**

Vatryn heard a knock to his cabin as he ended his entry.

"Come in," he said. A sailor walked in with his ragged trousers and shirt missing.

"Sorry to intrude, but we saw something that you need to see," the sailor said. Vatryn perked his head, intrigued as he followed the sailor out on to the deck.

Vatryn's eyes widened and could only look in awe. A large island, so big that even distance couldn't shrink it. Stone obelisks dotted the island yet in a way that they surrounded the main structure. As they sailed closer, huge stairs came into view as they zigzagged along a steep cliff towards a temple of some kind. It looked unique from any Tamrielic design, with its rooftops curved out from the building and multiple floors with several windows all around. It looked very old yet there were no signs of crumbling or wear on the roofs. Either it was made to last or something was keeping it that way.

"Vatryn, there you are," the captain said, walking up. "So, I see you've caught a glimpse of our destination or at least a stop. Now I know this is your expedition but a lot of the sailors and some of your mercenaries are really tired at sea. Now I don't want to alarm you but it's getting close to the point where if we don't stop, they might mutiny. So do you say we rest or keep on going?"

Vatryn took a moment to look at the temple before speaking. "Let's rest up here for now. The temple looks unsafe but as long as we stick to the beach, I think we'll be fine. Think we all deserve a bit of rest on some solid ground."

"Of course. I'll get the men ready for us to disembark," the captain said, going off to bark orders.

The ship anchored near the island and planked as several of the expedition brought down supplies and tents. Some even ran to the ground and kissed it as if embracing a newly born child.

Vatryn, however, donned his glass armor, his two swords, and backpack in hand. Most of the expedition made camp quite near the ship, setting up tents and pulling out crates to cook the salted meat they carried. But it was solitude he required for now and so Vatryn walked over to a spot a bit farther from the group.

"Uh, Master Vatryn, why are wearing your armor?" one of the expedition members asked.

"Just a precaution. We never know what we might encounter here and it's never safe to be sorry."

"You think there are monsters here?" she asked.

"No, not monsters. Just... excuse me." Vatryn said. Vatryn sauntered in through the middle of the encampment before standing atop a log.

"Could I grab everyone's attention for a moment?" Vatryn shouted. All eyes turned from their tasks for everyone's attention to lay bare. "I wanted to thank everyone here for their patience and fortitude into getting us this far. This is the expedition of a lifetime, the chance to explore new lands and discover new opportunities. And when this is done, we'll share with Tamriel about experiences here, with riches and glory to come." The expedition cheered with a hurrah and clapped their hands.

"Of course, I am sure you are also wondering why I am fully dressed in armor and prepared for battle," Vatryn smirked, "It's just a precaution but just in case, I'd like you all to be on your guard especially those I paid to help us. Also, I'm sure as you can see, please do not go into the temple for any research, treasure hunting, or even to just see what's inside. It's giving off strange magicka and more than likely houses something very dangerous. We'll rest here a couple of days and move on. Thank you."

* * *

The group continued on with their tasks and Vatryn returned back to setting up his tent. A light dinner and a few drinks later, the Dunmer was resting on a small cot. His brown hair still tied behind him as he slept with his armor on. Rain poured over the camp as the patter of water fell against the tent. And its pattering sound help to soothe Vatryn, reminding him of all the nights he slept as he explored through Morrowind. That and it felt much better than having to deal with ash storms.

Then, the rain stopped. Vatryn shot his eyes open, his body stirring him to get up. A piece of wood shredded through his tent, exposing him to torrent rain and blurring winds. He quickly rolled off and saw the camp blown away from the pieces of wood. Tents were torn and crates laid astound with all their contents flying into the air. He looked to where his ship once was, the top half shattered by the winds as pieces of it strikes members of the expedition. People screamed as they were assaulted, many pinned under pieces of ships and others profusely bled from their limbs being torn off.

"Run!"

"Get inside! It's our only way to live!"

"Fuck," Vatryn responded, grabbing his swords and backpack. Rain poured over the sharp wood now flying everywhere as he did his best to save others. He cast a shield over the group as they ran up the stairs, many abandoning others to save themselves. Rain tripped many on the way up, a domino effect fell as people stumbled over others breaking their necks and dying on impact.

"Hold on! Don't run too fast! You're tripping each over!" Vatryn yelled, his commands unheeded for all they could do was panic. A large rock from out the sea then slammed into the stairs, rubble flying over people and trapping those below. Vatryn's shield waned against the crumbling rocks and his eyes immediately met large chunks of wood flying towards him. He jumped high into the air, casting levitation as he made his way up towards the entrance. He stumbled across the floor as two men quickly closed the doors behind and began barring it as much as possible.

"What the hell was that?" one of the survivors questioned.

"A storm you fucking idiot! What else?" another shot back.

"This was a mistake. I never should have left Cyrodil."

"Alright calm down now," Vatryn said, "We all made it inside. We're fine."

"Fine! We're not fine, we're fucked," a sailor said, "That storm destroyed our only way out of here and all our supplies. We've got no food, no water, and no one is coming to save us."

"First, relax," Vatryn replied, putting out his hand. "You need to keep a clear head in these kinds of situations. Look, I managed to bring some water and food in my pack. We can ration those for now. We'll wait out the storm and try to salvage whatever might be left, make a new plan."

"What, so are we supposed to sit out the storm?" a mercenary asked.

"Yes," Vatryn answered, "for now, let's start a fire. The rest of you should go upstairs, look for anything we can use as kindling. I'll stay here and take count of our inventory." The group simply stared at the Dunmer and he raised his hands. "Well go on then. It won't do us any good to stand around."

The group walked off towards the stairs as Vatryn counted all the provisions from his backpack.

"_This has really turned to shit,_" he whispered.

Several minutes later, members of the group returned with old dusty books, rotten wood, and scrolls of paper. They made a pile and Vatryn set up a makeshift fire for them to warm their bones.

"Where's Otivo?" a sailor asked. The group squinted as they glanced at each other and around.

"Wasn't he with you?" another asked.

"No, I thought he was with you. Otivo!" the sailor yelled as the rest shot up from the fire. Eyes looked over in all directions, trying to look for the missing member.

"Hey, I see something over there," a member exclaimed. The expedition turned to see a light, very faint around a corner.

"Wait, I don't remember there being a corner over there."

"Master Vatryn, did you see it?"

Vatryn shook his head. "No, I didn't. Everyone, follow me. And stick close." Vatryn slung on his backpack and crept to the corner. The rest of the expedition followed single file, weapons drawn for whatever they might encounter.

Around the corner, Vatryn saw an open doorway, the faint light much brighter and illuminating a set of stairs. The groups descended the stairs to a large hallway. Stone statues of strange creatures lined the hall and many symbols all over. At the end of the hall, the light had formed into a small ball. Many shielded their eyes from the brightness as they walked closer before the light burst into particles. Pieces of it landed around the room with green fire instantly lighting in braziers and the eyes of the statues glowed red as if they came to life. Where the light once stood, the group could see a figure, a red hood covered its face and only the top half could be seen.

They all stood there, staring at the figure and scared to even move further.

Vatryn stepped before it. "Hi, there. We're sorry for the intrusion but we didn't realize someone still lived here. But one of my crew has disappeared and we were wondering if you've seen them."

The figure did not react but simply spoke. "Szabadság. Nem tartozol ide."

"Um, I'm sorry but I do not speak your la-n-gu-age. Fr-iend, we look for," Vatryn said, spelling out with his hands.

The figure seemed to grow angry, its body rapidly moving forward. "Mondtam szabadságot! Most meghalsz, mint ő!" The figure brought hands and threw something towards the floor. A skeleton plopped in front of the group, jumping them back as the figure moved toward the group. It lifted its hood, unveiling scaly smooth skin, fangs baring from out its mouth and the lights showed the lower half of a snake.

"What the hell?" a member exclaimed.

"It... it's one of those snake people. A Tsaesci!"

"I'm getting out of here!"

"Hold on, its just one here. We can take it!" one of the mercenaries yelled.

The Tsaesci raised its hands towards the ceiling, lightning shot out and traveled throughout the room. Vatryn was quick to cast absorption and shield but the others were instantly electrocuted, their bodies burned as their skin and clothes disintegrated before turning to ash.

Vatryn unsheathed Hopesfire and Trueflame, casting a fireball. The fireball dissipated before a magic field, revealing an orange glow surrounding the snake. The Tsaesci hissed and fired back streaks of lightning, hundreds of bolts flying towards him. Vatryn reflected the spells back with his arms, dodging and jumping behind each statue.

"Elpusztul!" The snake clasped its hands and the statues around the room shook violently. The figures' eyes grew bright and stone cracked to reveal the fleshy forms of the creatures.

Vatryn jumped back as the creatures tried biting and clawing at him, using his agility to slice each creature, fire and shock burning their flesh. A tiny flying one flew straight at him, jaws open, and he ducks under throwing three knives at it. The creature pins to the wall and turns to black goo.

He felt a pound into his chest, a bolt of lightning from the Tsaesci. Vatyrn countered with a thrown dagger but it bounced off a dome surrounding the snake.

He needed the shield gone. A creature slammed down onto Vatryn as he rolled way. He willed another spell absorption and he thrust his blades into the beast. Lightning flew towards him as another beast swiped at Vatryn. He quickly pulled his swords and sliced at its leg while it killed its ally.

The Tsaesci shot his hands down. Lightning broke out everywhere, electrocuting everything before it. Vatryn flipped over a beast as it fried, throwing a fireball at the snake. At the same time, he pointed a finger which etched a purple mark on the floor.

The Tsaesci slithered back, cupping his hands to release a torrent of lighting. Vatryn's blades greeted back the lightning. He locked them together, skidding back to the other side of the room. A slight tingle radiated in his arms, a smile forming across his face. Finally, a challenge he thought.

The lighting then wrapped around his blade, Hopesfire, and he whipped it back at the Tsaesci. As it fired, he locked his fists and jabbed forward white energy. The Tsaesci's eyes coward before the blast. It too skidded back, unaware that its shield vanished. The Tsaesci pulled the lightning apart but no longer saw Vatryn.

Vatryn teleported behind the Tsaesci as he sliced at its back. It hissed in pain to its smoldering back. Vatryn followed by thrusting both swords into its body, twisting it deep as fire and lightning radiated inside it. The Tsaesci was quick to react, grabbing and slamming Vatryn with its tail. Vatryn uses Truflame to cut into its tail, slicing through. But Vatryn's smile of relief turned into agony, his chest pounding in many times from the Tsaesci and launching him to a wall.

The Tsaesci slammed its open palms to the ground and two stone obelisks rose from the ground. The obelisks flanked the sides of Vatryn as he stumbled to get up when a sharp pain bucked him over. The snake's eyes lit up as a stone projectile flew at lightning speeds, penetrating through Vatryn's chest. Vatryn froze in pain, his stomach constricted to hold in the blood.

Suddenly, the rest of Vatryn's body stiffened. There was no feeling in his body at all. He looked up to see the Tsaesci, struggling to finish the spell and blood spilling out of it like a geyser. Vatryn screamed at the top of his lungs, pushing through with all his might as he threw Hopesfire.

The Tsaesci looked wide-eyed as the blade pierced through its head, lightning flowed over its body. Yet the Tsaesci gave one last smile and it closed its fist. A bright flash of light came to be and a sphere formed around Vatryn. He stood there exactly as he threw Hopesfire, his blood frozen mid-air.

The Tsaesci collapsed and as it died, the storm outside stopped and the castle revealed its true form of collapsed roofs and broken windows. Quiet descended on the island again.

No one in Tamriel knew what became of the Nerevarine and his expedition. New events rolled in as the Oblivion Crisis began, countless Daedra pouring all over Tamriel. New heroes rose and the years passed on as Tamriel dealt with the aftermath. Provinces seceded, internal strife rocked within, and a hundred years after, war broke. Even then, new troubles arose as dragons returned, threatening to consume the world and all mortal kind. A hero rose from the conflict, then united Tamriel back to peace, and began looking elsewhere for conquests. And throughout all those years, a hero faded away, lost to obscurity as a Dunmer who died in Akavir.

**_4E 305_**

The Akaviri castle was nothing like its former glory, having crumbled into ruins. None of its walls still stood and everything had faded away from skeletons to stone, lost to the ocean. Yet there he was, the hero of Morrowind, still young as the day he left, frozen forever in time. Hopesfire, no longer in a body but ash, started to vibrate. The ash on the blade began shifting around, up and down as if the earth shook. And in a flash of light, an orange portal appeared, right where Vatryn stood and he vanished. The portal closed, as quickly as it came, the stone obelisks fading away to dust.

A portal opened in a cave, spitting out the Dunmer as he fell hard onto the ground. His vision was blinded as he choked profusely. His breaths came sporadically and his abdomen bled. His eyes could barely see but white and he looked down to see blood pouring out his wound. He tried healing the clot but no magic came out of his hand, he felt his magicka empty as a bottle. He held tight over his wound and could barely stand up, his legs too weak to even move. His eyes then saw the silhouette of his sword and crawled towards it. Using it as a crutch, he stood up for his eyes to flutter open and he could see nothing but darkness.

A corner of his eye than blinked, light shined into him from far at the end of the cave. Leaning against the cave wall, he sheathed his sword and followed along the wall to keep his balance. As he reached the light, he looked out to see a forest, nothing but green leaves and broken sticks. A rock tripped him over, rolling down into the forest. Vatryn could barely get on his knees and his silver eyes could see nothing to help him. Some rustle of leaves startled him as he looked left, some humanoids walked over to him. But as he blinked, more and more of them popped from behind trees or out from nowhere. Soon he was surrounded by them yet his strength waned to him as he collapsed near the floor. Turning his head, he could only see squirrels zipping over him and spoke.

"H-help me."

* * *

**So what do you think?**

**Notes: Used Hungarian language for Tsaesci speech**

**Use this link for imgur for any that would like to see the full size of the cover image**

**/a/On7oVvl**


	2. Where am I?

**Chapter 2: Where am I?**

* * *

"You have no idea what you've done Nerevar."

"What I've done? I've saved the Dunmer from your madness. You would kill any that got in your way."

"You're wrong. Only I could have saved the Dunmer, united us all under my authority. One god to lead us all to greatness."

"No, just destruction. Morrowind is better off without you."

A laugh erupted from the dying person and blood spewed forth from their mouth.

"And what then? Shall you go off and wander around helping Dunmer in need? For every life you save, hundreds more are suffering. Without me, Morrowind will never be safe and we will be destroyed."

"They will be safe, once they know the truth."

"Truth!?" the person chuckled. "They'll never believe the truth and they will despise you for it. But go then, tell them. No Dunmer will ever trust you again."

Coughs burst from their mouth, blood pooling out as their breaths heaved in deeper and deeper.

I- h- hope you die all alone. To- to know what it's like- to lose everything in front of you," the person stammered before blood gurgled up their throat. Veins popped out their eyes, focusing intently on the Nerevarine. "I- I- nevveeerr-"

The person's mouth fully engulfed itself in blood as their eyes stared back in a blank stare. Their hands twitched, felling of to the sides as the body slumped in the arms of the man holding it.

"Goodbye, Almalexia."

* * *

Vatryn lifted up from the ground, blinking rapidly for a few seconds. He looked around him to see he was in a small tent, small lights scattered in through the green cloth.

"Wait, I was in Clockwork city. I… no wait, that was a few months ago. I-I was on a ship to… Akavir and…" Looking down, he could see bandages covering where his wound was. He wore nothing but ragged trousers, Trueflame nowhere to be found nor was his pack for that matter.

"Where am I?" His wound irked as he got up, insides still not have been fully healed. His arm shielded his view from the light as he walked out of the tent. A number of other tents, mats, furs, weapons dotted his view. Trees and other plants surrounded this "camp" and there was a pot mysteriously still stewing in the middle of it all. Glancing side to side, Vatryn could not see a soul around yet the pot indicates whoever healed him is still nearby.

"Stop right there!"

Vatryn looked up to find the voice that called out to him. An arrow is drawn, ready to fly loose from its wielder. The figure wore a green tunic opened in a v-shape down the middle, leather pants with steel shins, a squirrel tail on the chest, and a leather cap opened on the sides for the ears. Ears of an elf.

"Mind telling me why you've got an arrow trained on me?" Vatryn asked.

"Quiet," said the elf, "and don't you move." Footsteps rustled around the area and more elves wearing similar garbs emerged. Slowly they walked over to Vatryn, hands ready to unsheathe their swords. One of them walked a bit closer a few feet from Vatryn, he wore more armor than the others and quite a few daggers on his chest. Must be the leader.

"I see that you're awake," the elf spoke. "But it begs the question of who you are? You clearly have ears like us but you have strange skin and a strange aura about you. You some kind of demon or a monster?"

Vatryn raised his brow. "I'm not that strange. What, you've never seen a Dunmer before?"

"Dun-mer?"

"Yeah, you know Dark Elf, mer, elf? Just because my skin is grey doesn't make me any less of an elf than you. Also, I doubt a demon or a monster would be willing to have a chat about their appearance."

"Then what about your armor and weapons? Such things are clearly demonic."

"Yes because demons just love black and green armor and they would also ask for help with his wounds because it wants to harm you later. I didn't think pseudo-Bosmer like you would be this superstitious."

All the elves glanced at each other, confused by his words.

"Bosmer? What do you mean?" the elf asked.

"Wood Elf then, is that better?"

"You insinuate that because we're elves that we must live forests?"

"No, just your group in particular. Living in the woods is what the Bosmer seem to like and you do look like them. Well except for the eyes of course."

"Wh- what are you talking about?"

"Anyways, I appreciate the assistance. Now would you please point in the direction of your nearest city."

"Why would you want to go to some cess pooled filth of a place?" the elf asked.

"Why wouldn't I?" Vatryn shrugged.

"Because humans are racists pieces of shit. If anything, they'd probably just attack you on sight."

"Woah now, I get humans can be jerks but so can elves too. Just try talking to the houses of Morrowind."

"M..morrowind? Where's that?" Vatryn let of short breath, confused from the elf's words.

"Um, Morrowind. Home of the Dunmer. On the continent of Tamriel," Vatryn said, pointing his finger out west. The elves around Vatryn scratched their heads, lowering their heads and murmuring whispers.

"I think you're mistaken. We've never heard of such places," the elf responded.

"Then where am I then?" Vatryn asked.

"Temeria," the elf stated sternly.

The words felt as though to tore a hole into Vatryn's heart and sunk deep down in his gut.

"What!? But...I...no. That's…" Vatryn said, muttering on as he slumped to the ground.

The elves lowered their weapons, frazzled just as Vatryn was.

The elf that spoke to him scratched his head. He looked down upon Vatryn, keeling over to speak.

"Are you...um...okay?" Vatryn shook his head back, followed by a long sigh.

"No, I'm not alright. First, my expedition went sideways and now I'm in a forest where bosmer who aren't really bosmer are telling me that I'm not in Tamriel nor Akavir I assume?" The elf gave no response. "Great, just great. What else you want to tell me? Do daedra roam the land freely, cows fly over moons, or maybe that dwarves are still around?"

"Last I checked, dwarves are alive and well," the elf responded. Vatryn could not dignify the response as he hung his head down low.

"I assume you're not from the Continent then?"

"Brilliant deduction. Bravo. What gave it away? My dashing looks."

"You can do without the sarcasm. You're not impressing anyone here."

"Sorry, I'm just... frustrated," Vatryn said as he stood up. "You know I always found it best to talk out your problems. Is there a place we could sit so that I might explain?" The elf gestured to a log for both to sit on. The entire group of elves huddled close to the two, curious about the weird elf.

"Quite a group you have here," Vatryn began. "living free with nature, away from the troubles of modern life. I tried it myself but always did appreciate the baths and warm meals city life offers. Anyway, introductions first. My name is Vatryn Brios."

"I am Simid. Commander of this unit," the elf replied.

"A pleasure to meet you, Simid. I thank you for healing my wounds. Now then, how do I best explain my situation? Um, so obviously I'm not from around here nor any other place you might suggest. Is there another landmass around, like a continent say west of here? Or any other direction?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Are you from out west perhaps? Nobody knows if there is another continent in that direction."

"No, because if I were, then this would be Akavir. I guess you could say I'm from another world. I know that sounds crazy but it's true. You don't know that I'm a Dunmer, you don't know about Bosmer and you tell me of a place that I know for certain does not exist where I am from. It's obvious that I've landed in a new world."

"You're right, it does sound crazy. If a human said it. But you, a grey elf with unfamiliar items and a strange aura about you. I heard stories about the Aen Elle, our cousins that live in another world. Perhaps you're something like them, elves that will one day come as our salvation, to help us turn the tide against humanity and free us from oppression."

Vatryn raised his brow. "You really don't like humans, do you?"

"Why would I like a hairless ape that rapes, murders, and steals from us? Do humans not do the same where you're from?"

"Sure but so do many elves. In fact, where I am from, Morrowind is a country full of Dunmer that practice slavery. The only province on my continent that still does in fact."

"Hmph, well count yourself lucky you've never experienced the horrors the dh'oine can inflict," Simid replied as he crossed his arms.

Steam boiled out from the pot in camp, the entire group lining up quickly for the food.

"Seems it's time to eat," Vatryn said. His stomach growled and birds flew scared by the sound. Everyone looked perplexed at the dunmer before he smiled at the group. "So what are we having?"

"Squirrel," One of the elves said and Vatryn's nose wrinkled at the meal.

"Really? No deer or any other game?"

"None in this area. And there haven't been any human caravans to pass through."

"Why would it matter for caravans to pass through?" Vatryn mumbled, gnawing on the charred squirrel on a stick.

"To survive," one proclaimed. "Humans won't allow us to buy anything and they've done terrible things to us. So we take what we have to to survive."

"So you decide to become bandits then?" The mood around him tensed as he felt every eye fell on him. Simid approached him slowly, perking his head.

"Bandits are just simple-minded people that kill for coin. We are the Scoia'tael. We fight for non-humans and wage war against human tyranny. We fight so we can survive so that one day we will finally be free and take back what was once stolen from us," Simid stated.

"That's a nice speech you got. Real original. Still doesn't change the fact you are bandits and I very much despise bandits. But since you helped me, I owe you a debt of gratitude. So I'll let it slide this time."

"How very thoughtful of you. But you're not from this world, so why is it any of your business?" Simid asked

Vatryn smashed the pot over crashing into the ground. Simid took a step back as the entire unit drew their weapons, bows drawn and swords pointed.

"Because it is my business," Vatryn stated, "It doesn't matter if I'm not from here or not. You don't kill people just for their stuff, it's that simple. I don't care if you're human, elf, or whatever other sentient species you are. And I could care less about your reasons. Revenge, the greater good, survival, I've heard them all. But I am not someone who believes it's all just good and evil, so here is what's going to happen. Since you've shown me some hospitality and care for me, I will show you a better way to survive."

"And what if we don't want you to show us?" Simid asked.

"Then I'll have to kill you all."

"You really think threatening us is a good option?"

"I'm not threatening, I'm simply stating what will happen. And I've faced much worse enemies than a group of bandits. So what's it going to be?"

The two narrowed each down, ready for the other to make a move. Vatryn could see through that Simid's hand shook intently, fast enough for no one else to notice.

"Fine then," he relented as he raised to the others to stand down. "I'll give you a chance. Since you knocked down our pot, perhaps tell us how we are going to feed ourselves without having to take from the dh'oine."

"Buy some," Vatryn shrugged, only for Simid to become wide-eyed.

"That's your plan!? Maybe we should also bend over and let them…"

"You didn't let me finish. I mean we persuade them but first I need something. Where did you put my stuff?"

A quick glance to the left pointed him to his backpack and gear, loosely placed out on a log. Grabbing his items, he ran quickly into the tent and laid out everything that was accounted for.

"Let's see. None of my potions are missing, soul gems intact, coin purses unopened. Here it is."

He grabbed the bag with the enthusiasm of a puppy yet like all puppies drooped down as he saw his armor.

"Damn," he said, lifting his glass armor up. "That Tsaesci put a nasty hole through it. I doubt any smith could repair it either. Let me think, I remember that smith at the Ghostgate told me in a tight bind, I could use steel to patch in parts though it would be a weak spot. Maybe I could paint it black over. But until I find a smith, I'll just have to make sure no one hits it."

A shirt, shoes, trousers, greaves, boots, gauntlets, pauldrons, chainmail, and a cuirass took time for the Dunmer to dress into. His stomach slightly winced a bit as he bent over perpendicularly, climbing out of the question for a while. Coming in with a finishing touch, a chitin leather belt across the chest for throwing knives and ebony daggers and a pouch to carry valuables and potions. Lastly, Trueflame, the curved sword flowed with fire on the blade and it warmed his face.

"A shame I lost Hopesfire. It would have been really helpful in a strange new world."

He sheathed the sword and proceeded out of the tent. Most of the Scoia'tael had moved on, taking watch over the camp, some sleeping, and rest readying weapons and even reading books.

"About time you're ready," Simid called as he approached. "So, care to elaborate on this plan of yours?"

"Mhm, with this," Vatryn said, tossing out a coin purse in his hands. "In my travels, I managed to amass myself with quite a fortune but most of that came from the Empire's currency. So in the last few months, I spent time searching for anything that would be valuable regardless of my location. Gems, gold, pearls, and an occasional artifact are just some of the things I'd find. This purse here is full of pearls, enough for a family to live in a decent home for a few years."

"Bribery then," Simid stated with contempt slithering out of his voice.

Vatryn shook his head back. "No this is just an extra incentive. It would be best I show you though. Are there any roads nearby?"

"There's one near Dorian but the guards would attack us on site. A better place would be on the road a bit northeast. It'll take us about a day to reach it."

"Northeast it is then. Oh, and we'll need to wear some cloaks too. Don't want anyone attacking us on sight."

* * *

The sun fell on their backs, trickling through the trees as Vatryn and Simid walked. The rustle of leaves and bark crunched beneath their feet, the smell of earth tickled Vatryn's nose as he let out a sneeze.

"You're quite uncomfortable with the forest. A pampered life behind city walls," Simid observed.

"Hey, just because I'm an elf doesn't mean we automatically like forests. Besides where I'm from, we don't have forests like these. Just grasslands with the occasional tree. But still, even Bosmer live in cities, which admittedly are giant trees that they've carved as their cities. I even heard they move around."

"So you have different types of elves?" Simid asked.

"Yes," Vatryn answered, "we have three. Four if you want to be technical but I don't think they or other the elves want to count as elves. Anyways the main three ones are the Altmer, Bosmer, and Dunmer. Or as the humans say, High Elf, Wood Elf, and Dark Elf. I told you a bit about the last two but don't expect a detailed history from me. But it boils down to this: Altmer live in elegant marble cities on a tropical island, Bosmer live in giant forests that would make these look pathetic, and Dunmer live in an ashen wasteland. You can guess the rest what they're like."

No response came back and soon nightfall befell. A quick snack of toads and insects and the two continued along well into the morning. Simid lead ahead to a small hill covered in shrubs, overlooking a dirt road with nicks and pots along.

"So this is it huh?" Vatryn asked, laying into the shrub.

"Yes, sometimes we hit here when its nightfall but most of the time we wait for them to get lost in the woods."

"And they just let you do that?" Vatryn asked. "They don't try to stop you, put bounties, send in their military?"

"Oh they've tried many times," Simid said, turning to Vatryn with a smile. "But they always fail to defeat us for good or more often than not they fight each other. Right now, we heard the king is up north with forces feuding with his nobles."

"Taking advantage of the chaos then?" Vatryn asked and Simid confirmed with a nod. "_Again, that's what bandits do,_" he muttered.

Simid snarled back at him, muttering out curses under his breath. Hours began to pass, the sun's rays halfway between it set. Simid tapped Vatryn's shoulder, pointing out to the shrubs of a dot passing into view. The dot became clearer, revealing a small wagon driving down the road. The passenger happily sang a tune, giving not a care in the world.

Thus the man paid no attention to one of the pots in the road, carrying on as one of his wagon's wheels plopped down. The drop was so sudden that he nearly fell forward. He then proceeded to continually whip the horse to pull, yelling it for encouragement. Yet it did nothing but cause the wagon to drop even deeper into the ground along with the other wheel. So deep that it shifted the man down into the dirt as he began to curse and tirade at his wagon, horse, and even his brother.

"Our lucky day, a lone man stuck with no one else around," Simid said as he began to crawl forward. An arm from Vatryn blocked him and he looked to see a scowl on the Dunmer's face.

"I told you," Vatryn whispered. "I'm showing you a different way."

"Which is?"

"Let's help him."

"That's it. Help him. Why should we? He probably won't let us buy from him and he'll run away from two elves coming out of nowhere."

"Put these masks on," Vatryn said, pulling the items out from his pockets.

"What…"

"Shh, just go along with it and follow my lead," he said, covering his head in a hood and mask.

The two circled out from the forest, avoiding the man's view. As they approached, Vatryn held out his arms.

"Excuse me, good sir. I see that you are in a bind," he announced.

The man looked up at the two cloaked figures, eyes widened as he stumbled back and holding up his arms.

"W-who are you? What do you want?"

"Be calm, good sir. My companion and I seek you no harm. We are travelers just leaving from Dorian."

"Then why are your faces covered?"

"Oh, well we are both horribly disfigured. Yes, a tragic accident involving a fire a few years ago that left us horribly scarred. People would look in disgust or flee in terror from us and we would constantly drink in shame. The masks solve both," Vatryn replied.

The man raised a brow at Vatryn, calmed but still unsure.

"Please, allow us to help. We can get your wagon out," Vatryn said as he approached.

"Well, I…"

"Good," Vatryn interrupted. "Simid, get some wood real quick. Preferably flat and sturdy."

Dirt caked underneath Vatryn's boots as he proceeded behind the wagon and grabbed it firmly. The man stood back from him as Simid brushed out of the forest with the wood requested.

"Alright, good sir, I'll lift up the wagon while Simid here puts in on those logs. Then you'll use your horse to get out."

"By yourself? Don't you need another hand?"

"It's fine. I can lift it. You just move when I tell you to," Vatryn said.

The man bit his lower lip as the two strangers readied themselves. Vatryn gave back a nodding approval to the man, motivating him to the front.

"Alright, ready Simid?"

"Yes, I'm ready!" the man called out.

"Ok, I, 2, 3!"

Vatryn clenched his hands, pulling up the wagon. Simid was quick to place the wood as Vatryn slightly sank into the dirt. Slowly, he planted the wagon down onto the logs and they slightly cracked under the weight.

"Ok, you can move now!" Vatryn said, banging on the side of the wagon. The crack sound of whip pulled the wagon forward, running but a few feet away.

"Wow!" the man said as he stopped the wagon and jumped off. "you really could lift it. You have my thanks. I'm sorry, I don't even know your name."

"Vatryn. And this is Simid. It was a pleasure to help. What's a man like you doing out here anyway?"

"My name is Gedrand. I'm a trader from my village. I was on my to Dorian but when my wagon dropped down I thought it was over. I was scared that I might have had to abandon my wagon for help and that Scoia'tael would have looted it. But you two gentlemen helped me out. Is there a way I can repay you?"

"Actually you can. You see, I might have exaggerated a bit about our faces," Vatryn said.

Gedrand was confused at his words but his heart pounded as the two men took off the masks and hood. Their ears trembled fear into his eyes as he stumbled back away from them.

"W-what are you? Some Scoia'tael monster," he replied, unsheathing a dagger. He flimsy threw it at them, only for it to bounce off Vatryn's arms.

"Now hold on. We don't want to hurt you. Just a moment ago we helped you free your wagon."

"And what the hell are you? Some kind of super elf?" Simid exchanged looks with Vatryn, receiving a shrug back.

"Let's just say I'm not from around here. Look, we're not here to kill you but to ask you for assistance. You see, we realized the errors of our way. The Scoia'tael do not do anything but divide us. However, since leaving we've had naught to survive on and the forest has no supplies or any ample game. Dorian has what we need but they'd never allow people like us inside. You can pay us back by buying the supplies for us."

"Like I'd ever do that. I'll end up leading Scoia'tael straight into the town, you'd kill and pillage everyone and burn it to ash. Leave me be!"

Simid growled toward the merchant before an arm held him back from going forward. Gedrand's breathing heaved faster as the Dunmer knelt down.

"Think about it, good man. Why would we help you? I could have easily killed you and taken everything from you. And attacking a town that I'm sure is full of guards. There are better ways to kill yourself. Of course, if that isn't enough, then I can pay. How's 15 pearls sound?"

The coin purse landed on Gadrend's lap, its contents jingled as it made contact. A peek inside amazed him at the amount of the pristine pearls, perfectly rounded as it glistened so bright, the silver lilies paled in disgrace. Looking up and down from the elves and purse, his mind raced through the possibilities for what felt like an eternity.

"I…" Gedrand stumbled up, "how do I know you're not lying?"

"You don't. I find that it's best to trust each other's self-interest. And our self-interest is to not die while yours is to make money. You'll buy us provisions, get rich from those pearls, and meet us near the forest, preferably out of sight from the town. Deal?"

Gedrand slacked his face, furrowing a brow at the audacity of this elf. Yet something about him felt calm; a smoky voice that soothed the nerves like a hot bath on his skin. This... this one was different.

* * *

"They're back!" a scout yelled out. Scoia'tael gathered around the approaching wagon that Simid and Vatryn rode on. Inside there were cuts of venison, and other assorted meats, cheese, and drinks. Large furs, clothing, tools, and pieces of leather piled neatly on the side.

"Simid this is a big haul! Did you convince the gray one that its no use to bargain with the dh'oine?" one of the guerrillas asked.

"No, he-"

"He helped some human," Vatryn interjected, hopping down. "Because it turns out, if you're nice to people, they'll be nice back. It also doesn't hurt to incentivize, you know a favor for a favor."

"I'll admit you surprised me Vatryn. Perhaps not all dh'oine aren't so unreasonable. But still, you were lucky, very lucky. For every one person like that merchant, there's a thousand that won't ever accept us. You can't expect us to be nice to every single human."

"I don't expect you to lay down and let them kill you," Vatryn said, closing the distance with Simid with but a few inches between them. "But I expect you to at least make the effort and to move forward with those who reciprocate. Too many times I've seen just an endless cycle of hate that consumes your very morality, your soul. And if you want to stop it, you've got to take initiative and turn the other cheek."

"You make it sound so simple."

"That's because it is. It's our feelings that get in the way. Which is why you're going to stop with your raids," Vatryn declared.

"We can't," Simid shot back. "It's not possible for us, not at the moment. But you did show us that perhaps we shouldn't attack every caravan, just the ones that carry weapons."

"Ugh," Vatryn groaned, waving Simid off as he went back to his tent. Within a minute, he emerged slinging his pack over with a cloak over him.

"What are you doing?" Simid asked.

"Leaving. I paid my debt to you and I'm not about to get involved with you. I'll try and find a way back to my world if there is. Good day," Vatryn said, bowing.

Simid jumped his head back in surprise as he and the rest of the group looked on to the departing Dunmer. He drummed his fingers on his thighs, frowning.

"Wait!" Simid reached out to Vatryn. The Dunmer stopped in his tracks, glaring back as the elf leader approached. "I might know of someone who could help you."

"Who?"

"His name is Iorveth, a Scoia'tael commander that operates near the Temerian-Aedirin border. He has a lot of contacts and perhaps he could point you to someone that might help you. Go northeast of here until you reach a fortress called Hagge. Then go east from there and tell the Scoia'tael there that Simid sent you."

"Thanks," Vatryn said. As he walked off, his voice bellowed out for the whole camp to hear.

"Oh and one more thing! I find out you're still raiding, I won't treat you such kindness the next time!" he declared, his final declaration as he melded through the trees.

Pulling up his hood, a sigh of relief came about his body as if a boulder was lifted. Quite surprising they took his bluff, he was almost sure they'd stuff him with arrows as soon as he knocked over their pot. The way they talked about suffering and how that merchant was rife in fear at the sight of him, the races here really did not like each other. Sure back home men and mer didn't exactly see eye to eye but never did we hate so much we'd commit genocide of each other. Well, okay Falmer and Ayleids but it wasn't all the time.

Looking up at the trees, one thought entered into Vatryn's head.

"What the fuck kind of world did I end up in?"

* * *

**Thoughts?**


	3. Monsters, Magic, and Peasants

**Chapter 3: Monsters, Magic, and Peasants**

* * *

Blood splattered over the bark of a tree trunk, bits of flesh and muscle hung off its branches. Trails of bodies lined along from the gore as red streamed over torn armor and cracked swords. Men screamed in agony further deep in the thick forest and not even gods could help such suffering. A hooded figure danced around a clearing, dodging thrusts and swipes from rugged men only to meet their demise in flames. A spear thrust forward to the hooded figure but the figure was quicker. SIdestepping and with a dagger in hand, swiped at the spearman's knees and their eyes' last moments of life met a sword of hellfire. The figure slowly stood from its strike as the man's head rolled off the lifeless body, the inside of the neck perfectly cauterized.

A single ruffian stood left, his entire body trembled and his grip could barely hold his sword.

"W-wha...what the f-fuck are you?" the man questioned.

The figure turned back to the man, his trousers soiling in piss. The hood fell to the figure's shoulders, silver eyes and pointed ears revealed the makings of an elf. Yet one with grey skin that branded a curved sword; an inferno coated over its blade.

"Stay away from me you gray-skinned demon!" the man dropped his sword, fleeing in terror as he screamed.

"Hey, I'm not gray-skinned," Vatryn kicked up a fallen spear and threw with haste, impaling straight through the man's chest to the ground.

"It's more of a bluish-gray you s-wit," Vatryn said. Finding a nice tree, he laid down to his work.

"What_ a day so far. Twelve bandits, a new record this time,_" Vatryn thought as he drank a swig of water from his canteen. "_It seems no matter where I am, bandits are always idiots. Though they seem to be a little braver than back home._"

Vatryn looked over his carnage and back to himself, everything on his person in order.

"Now let's see what they got this time," Vatryn jumped to the corpses, searching each pocket diligently for loot.

Yet for the most part, the contents were bland, poor, and even just weird. "Rope, plates, and half-eaten food; are these bandits or campers? Not even a single gem or valuable on them, even their coins are dull."

"This feels like a chore. I mean really, you can't even steal a good dagger but somehow have fifty pieces of coin on you. Either you're an idiot or this world has shitty metal," he lamented, tossing over the dagger into a pile. Soon it became a mountain of junk piled in a humongous mound.

After finishing his search, Vatryn counted out his prize. One hundred Temerian coins, two steel daggers, a piece of bread and apple juice.

"Great, more money. I'll remember that when people come at me with pitchforks. Then again, I doubt a pitchfork would do much against me or anyone for that matter," he said, trying to imagine such a metal even piercing through steel. "Nope, can't see it."

Vatryn swept up the contents into his bag and proceeded to the grueling task of the bodies. It was almost a second job at this point; dig a hole, dump the bodies, then bury them. Not many people could get used to it but Vatryn learned to become desensitized after the first hundred. He thought of the bandits, not as humans, elves, or even beastfolk; they were monsters and monsters don't deserve sympathy. No funerals, no rites, just a hole.

Before he began to bury, a thought popped in as he looked over the corpses.

"This_ might be a good time to use my_ magic," he thought. Vatryn could see the hole was deep enough from the ground. Enough that the forest wouldn't burn down.

Vatryn faintly remembered when he first came to that his basic healing spell would not activate. He could feel magicka flowing in his body but his body was shut tight for some reason. In Tamriel, magic was natural as a breeze of air. But in this world, it felt chaotic and wild like a force of nature you must wrestle with. It was distant too as Vatryn could feel its strength shifting as he moved north. More likely magic was concentrated in certain parts of this world rather than all over back home.

Vatryn concentrated on his target, putting his hand forward as he pulled deep within.

"_Fire,_" he thought, "_burning, scorching destruction._"

A stream of fire exploded from his palms and the pile of corpses instantly ignited. Vatryn recoiled over in extreme agony as his hand sparked with red.

"Shit! It felt like the inside of my hands were on fire," Vatryn held his wrist as he looked to see his hand twitching. The inside of his palm had a slight burn in the middle.

"I guess I shouldn't use magic for a while," he said, bending his fingers. "At least I got the bodies burning."

The smoke of charred flesh rose behind Vatryn as he continued his journey through the forests. The forests were quite lush and green, full of animals and with the occasional dirt passage through. And the quiet of it all gave Vatryn time to ponder on his predicament.

"Boy, besides all the bandit attacks, this land is quite peaceful compared to Morrowind. No cliff racers, undead, or even annoying rats. And no prophecy to be bound to. Perhaps...no, no. I shouldn't and besides, I don't belong here. I've done enough saving the world and I don't need to get involved again. I just need to get to this Iorveth guy and…"

Vatryn stopped for a moment, trying to process what he said.

"Arrgh!" His yell shook the forest of its branches as birds and squirrels scattered.

"I don't know even know if I'm going northeast. I might be even farther away. I should have asked for a map," Vatryn said, sighing as he rubbed his eyes. A light popped into his mind, the solution.

"Okay, I remember a river I passed by earlier. The water flowed north and that would mean a body of water like a lake or a spring. And where there's a lake, there's a town and towns have maps. But then, how would I get inside?"

The conundrum ticked his brain on the way back to the river. Elves were not trusted and even hated by the humans here and a gray one would certainly frighten them. Another way had to be found without bloodshed.

Reaching the river and trekking along its path, a marvelous structure filled his gaze. Across the lake, large stone walls and battlements sat over the lake and proudly flying silver-lilied flags. Outside though paled in comparison to the city, an old ruined castle in the lake, dirty small hovels and swamps off into the distance.

"Charming place. Now back to planning. Let's see, I can't get too close to the city or else I'd have to kill the guards. Not a great way for first impressions."

Vatryn took a bearing of his surroundings for clues. A peak of stone over the trees made out some type of large statue, possibly worship. Another clue surfaced as smoke arose next to the stone.

"Perhaps_ some peasants might have a map here? And if not, well then I'll think of something else,_" Vatryn thought.

Trudging into the rivers and trees, Vatryn could see the makings of a tiny village. Remnants of a campfire left smoking in the center as people swatted off soot from their faces. A few villagers could be seen running out toward some stone, the one Vatryn just saw, of a woman carved out and extending its arm out.

"Small, a bit isolated, and no guards around. Perfect," he muttered.

"What's perfect? Me, you, my house, the Lady, or me?" a voice asked. Vatryn jumped back around, only to see a small ragged girl.

"Wha…" Vatryn raised his brow with eyes widened.

"Oh, you're an elf. A gray one, no blue, bluish. But why are you gray-blue? Did you stick your head in the fire? Or maybe you're just pale and hungry. I know the Fisher King, he catches fish sometimes. I-" the girl jabbered on so much that Vatryn could not even keep up.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…" Vatryn interrupted by waving his hands out. "Slow down, little girl. I think you've misunderstood my quandary. I'm lost, not sick."

"What's quandary mean?"

"It means I'm in a difficult situation."

"Like when all those monsters attacked the Vizima, that was a quandary. And like how I saw Billy put a mushroom in the fire and burned people's eyebrows, that was a quandary."

"Yeah... sure kid. You seem to know about all the events here. An expert, I assume?"

"I know everything. Ask me."

"You wouldn't happen to know if anyone has a map of this place? Such as country we're in or even of the world. I need one and it's kind of important to my quandary."

"I saw the village chief with one. Said he needs to find a new place to live. A lot of people died when the monsters attacked but I don't know why they want to leave. All the monsters are gone."

"Sometimes people don't want to be reminded about the places where their loved ones died. It's too much and they just have to get away from it all. And that's from experience."

"Adults are weird. You're weird and gray, but I like you. I can get the map for you but I want something first."

"What is it?" Vatryn asked as he crossed his arms.

"I want to play hide-and-seek?"

"What? Can't you play with the other kids?" he asked. The girl shook her head back.

"They won't play and the adults are too stupid. So, will you play?" The girl asked with glee. Vatryn scratched his head and looked over to the village. He sighed and knelt before her.

"Fine but on one condition," Vatryn said as the girl nodded. "You can't hide in the village. I don't think the folk in the village would be too happy seeing me."

"Yes, yes," the girl jumped enthusiastically, "Okay, you close your eyes and count to… um, thirty. Got it." Vatryn nodded and covered his face as the girl immediately ran off.

"One..two..three…"

"Twenty-eight..twenty-nine..thirty. Ok, here I come."

Vatryn searched to where the girl was, a few crumpled leaves followed where she last stood. Following along he found more evidence as a person-shaped hole had formed in a bush. A dirt trail laid bare and Vatryn could see another hole through the forest on the other side. A quick glance in both directions before he skirted off. A few minutes of following the broken leaves and twigs, he spotted a cave right near the lake.

"She might be there..."

A slight sharpness shot into his arm and his hand started to twitch again. The pain subsided a bit but it still lingered. Despite the pain, the cold and chaotic mass of energy that he ignored came back to his senses. As he closed his eyes and sidestepped in all directions, he could feel it getting strongest to the left of the cave.

"I can't deal with this," he said, "I've got to figure out what that power is or else I'll go crazy. The girl never specified a time limit so I should be fine."

Vatryn trekked along the shoreline as the pain tingled the closer he got. A chiming sound entered his ear, whatever it was making its presence known. A view of a stone with a hole came to be. Embers of fire crackled from the stone and some orange triangle floated inside the hole. Vatryn could feel the hand he used to cast began to twitch uncontrollably and any attempt to stop it was met with agony. But he noticed the hand had a pattern to its twitch as it often pointed toward the stone. Without any other recourse, he slowly walked toward the stone intently. The pain became sharper and started to radiate throughout his body yet he kept the course, grabbing his arm and holding its hand towards the stone. The twitching hand shook wildly towards the stone as magical energy could be seen leaking out his hand; teeth-gritting, sweat pouring, nose bleeding, all obstacles in his way. And with a final push, he placed his hand on the stone and the pain subsided.

"Well, that was easier than I-"

Fire instantly ignited over his arm, consuming his entire body as he yelled at the searing burns. His hand was glued onto the stone, refusing to release him. Vatryn could feel magic swelling up from the stone and the veins in his arms lit up the same color as the floating triangle.

"AAAGHH!" Vatryn yelled out at the moment before the magic burst opened, releasing him to darkness.

"Hey, hey mister," A whisper called out from the dark, "Mister elf, are you dead?" The whisper asked, louder than before.

Vatryn grumbled at the sound to his head, the noise swirling his head in a maelstrom.

"MISTER!" the voice screamed, lifting Vatryn out from his slumber. His eyes rapidly blinked, coming in and out of a blurry vision. A beige blop stood in front and he narrowed his eyes to see it clear up to the girl he was supposed to find.

"Why were you sleeping? I told you to play hide-and-seek with me," the girl said, crossing her arms. Vatryn raised a brow at her, staying silent as he looked around him. His eyes then landed back upon the stone he touched.

"Sorry," he said, rubbing his head. "I thought you were here. How'd you find me anyway?"

"I felt the ground shake a lot in my hiding spot. I walked outside and saw you laying out on your back. Why did you go to sleep? Did the magic stone do it?"

"No, well... sort of. I needed to test something first," Vatryn said as he looked to his hand. It looked completely fine and the sharpness he felt was no longer there. Was his problem solved?

Standing back up, he faced the stone and extended out a palm.

"What are you doing?" the girl asked.

Vatryn ignored her and focused on fire, hoping for the best. And it did as a stream of fire ejected from hand without an explosion of pain. He could only smile at this accomplishment for then he readied a fireball and launched it towards the sky as it blinked off to the stars. Vatryn smiled more as he floated off from the ground, looking high over the trees before slowly levitating down.

"Woah! I didn't know you were a mage," the girl stood starred-eyed in amazement.

"I'm not, kid."

"But you shot fire a-and you flew. That's magic."

"Yes but that doesn't mean I'm a mage. Mages wear robes and study a lot about magic. I use it to fight and other stuff."

The girl tilted her head, dumbfoundedness over her face. "Yeah, you're a weird elf but you're kinda fun. Come on, let's play again. This time, I want to fly."

"Not this time. Besides, it's getting a bit late now and I'm sure your parents might worry about you. How about you get me the map and I'll wait in the woods near the village. We can play some other time."

"But I want to play now," the girl pouted.

"How about this," Vatryn said, pulling out a diamond and knelt. "Take this. It costs a lot of money and I'll probably need this someday. Hold on to this as a promise that I will come back and play with you. Make sure you hide it and I do mean, hide it. Do not show it to absolutely anyone, not even your parents. Understand?"

"I do," the girl nodded.

"Well alright then. Shall we be on our way?"

Vatryn followed the girl as she skipped back to the village. Noticing the huts, the girl turned back to Vatryn, who proceeded to hide in some shrubs overlooking the village. Vatryn held out a thumbs up to the girl as she continued back home. Seeing a chance, he sat down amidst the shrub and meditated on his skills.

"Aaagh!" a voice cried out.

Vatryn peeked out from the shrubs to see the ground break apart into a mound. A dozen or so small little creatures the size of children popped out, rounded white heads with large sharp claws and teeth. They ran all over the place, clawing and jumping onto villagers as groups would shred them to pieces. Villagers ran in fear as more and more mounds of the creatures emerged.

Taking off his pack and cloak, Vatryn sprang from hiding with Trueflame and an ebony dagger; he could not let allow the villagers to die. The creatures became surprised as the elf began cutting through each one in rhythm. A counterattack began as the creatures somersaulted towards him but Vatryn was quick to flip back. Daggers of three unleashed from his belt hitting each creature straight in the head yet the endless wave continued as he threw all he had. Suddenly, a burst of dirt exploded behind him as ten of the creatures launched their ambush. Fire exploded from Trueflame, Vatryn swung out a wave of fire, burning and slicing through the creatures in one stroke.

This dance continued for another minute as Vatryn cut and swiped through each creature with ease, dodging and blocking every claw swipe. Four assaults launched him back several backflips for then another creature to emerge. This one was much larger and bulkier than the others and with blood swipes covering its face and body. The large creature then screeched to the others. Their attacks became more coordinated, each taking turns with their claws, one after another barely giving Vatryn time to counter.

"Damn_ it!_" Vatryn thought. "_I gotta break their coordination somehow. Wait-_"

Dodging at the last second, Vatryn pulled out a black ball from his pouch. He held it near his chest, exploding from a claw swipe. White dust particles covered the group and blinding the creatures and their assault. Vatryn cleaved through with Trueflame as the blade flared up, detonating the cloud. The creatures' flesh promptly burned off from the explosion and launching both their corpses and Vatryn a few feet out.

Vatryn planted face down on the ground, smoke sizzling from his armor. A second in, he picked himself up and his skin and armor largely intact save for the smoke still rising.

"Vatryn, your lucky you're fireproof," Vatyrn said as he looked in at the thick cloud.

But he was too quick to let down his guard as the large warrior creature burst through with their claws extended out. Vatryn could only watch as claws jabbed straight to his chest but it abruptly stopped. Both the elf and creature were shocked at the revelation, for the creature's claws could barely penetrate the glass armor. Vatryn stared back at the creature, its eyes still filled with confusion. Taking advantage, he plunged a dagger into its face as it wailed and screeched in pain. He continued to push the dagger further into its head and its screeches getting louder every second; with a clean cut from his sword, Vatryn held its head with his dagger as the body lumped off. Vatryn, however, could not help but wrinkle his nose in disgust at the head.

"Vatryn, that might have been a bit overboard, even for you. Now the dagger is stuck in it… there! Ugh, still got some flesh stuck on."

In total, about twenty-five corpses of the creature laid bare before Vatryn. Cauterized pieces of flesh strewn about and few if any blood flowed from them.

Villagers emerged from their hiding places, some covered in blood splats from dead villagers while others held pitchforks and rakes and ready to defend themselves from the creatures. Slowly they walked to where Vatryn stood, fear and amazement still held them as they could not find the right words. Vatryn sheathed his weapons to calm them but many with their makeshift weapons still held them firmly. Finally, an older man with many gray hairs and a beard stepped forward.

"Y-you saved us," the old man said.

"I did. Your welcome," Vatryn responded, taking a quick bow.

"B-but why? Why would ye, a gray elf, help us?" the old man asked

"You were in trouble. I can't stand by and watch people get slaughtered by monsters. So I did what I do best."

"Are you a witcher then?" one of the villagers asked, "I've never seen someone able to kill so many monsters so easily."

"An elf witcher? Never heard of one but makes sense," Another villager stepped forward.

"Must be why he's gray. Heard they use mutations to make witchers and it probably did that. Ain't I right?" a peasant asked Vatryn, who's face sweated with worry.

"Does that mean he'll want money for saving us?"

"We don't have any coin; does that mean he'll take our kids?" The announcement frightened the villagers as some knelt on their knees.

"Please don't take our children mister elf. We'll give you anything else. Food or…"

"Or a chicken."

"I have a good pot for cooking."

"Witcher please take what we offer," the older village man spoke.

Vatryn backed up away from the villagers, waving both his hands in denial. A voice called out that alerted them all.

"Mister elf, I got what you wanted," the girl said, gleefully skipping past the group with a piece of paper rolled up in her hands.

"Anna, what are you doing? Get back here before your mother sees you," the old man chastised.

"I'm not doing anything wrong. The elf wanted your map and he'd say he would come back to play later," The girl responded as she handed Vatryn the map and walked back to the villagers.

"Thank you, Anna," Vatryn said.

"Hey, wait a minute, what do you need that map for?" the old man asked.

"A mission of importance. You might find it hard to believe but I am not from here or anywhere on this continent. I am lost and need to find a contact of mine in Flotsam but to get there I require a map such as this," Vatryn folded the map into his pouch and retrieved a small purse out. "Don't worry though I don't intend to leave you empty-handed."

The purse landed in the old man's hands, its weight reeling his hands back a bit.

"That is about fifty pieces of whatever you call this country's currency. You can buy yourself a map back in that city of yours over there," Vatryn said, pointing across the lake.

"T-thank you. But-"

"Look, I don't need to tell you but sometimes it's best not to deny a gift. Especially in your case," Vatryn replied.

The old man was silent, a sign of agreement on Vatryn's part. Vatryn started to walk back to the shrubs until another villager ran up to him.

"Wait," she asked, "aren't you going to make sure there aren't any more monsters?"

Vatryn paused in his steps and turned back to the group. "Why would I? I'm pretty sure I killed them all," he said.

"Are you not a witcher?" another villager chimed in.

"I don't what a witcher is but I assume you mean some type of monster killer. Look, I may be good at killing monsters but that doesn't mean I know how to find them. Sorry, but you'll have to hire a real witcher."

"But we can't. Witchers are very rare and you're the only one around that could help us," the old man said.

"What about your magic, mister elf? I saw you use it," the girl interjected. The other villagers stared in disbelief to what she said.

"Anna, what do you mean?" one asked.

"Well, I saw him shoot a ball of fire into the sky. He was next to the magic stone near the shore. It was amazing."

"Wait a minute, I saw that," a villager said, raising their arms.

"So did I. And before that we felt the ground shake a bit over here. And those monsters came out of the ground too."

"He drove those monsters up here!" a villager pointed toward Vatryn. The rest became riled from the accusation hollering and pointing.

"You killed me, husband!"

"Murderer!"

"I knew elves couldn't be trusted!"

Vatryn quickly backed up while raising his hands. "Hold on now, I didn't shake the ground. I also didn't know what the creatures were, so how would I summon them? This is simply a misunderstanding so if we all-" Vatryn ducked from a bottle thrown at his face, only for him to block with his arm more random pieces of junk.

"Get out here!"

"Leave!"

"No, get him! Avenge our families!" Pitchforks and rakes were picked up as villagers charged towards Vatryn.

Vatryn made haste back towards the shrubs and with his cloak and bag, ran out as villagers chased after him. Pieces of wood and bottles were repeatedly thrown at him, narrowly missing as he ran towards the river. With a running start, Vatryn levitated over the river carefully avoiding more thrown items. As he ran away, he could see most of the village raising their weapons and yelling obscenities but the girl he helped still waved goodbye.

After a few minutes into the woods and as far from the village he could, Vatryn leaned on a tree and checked over his belongings. Thankfully, his bag did not tear from the broken bottles and the map he received was intact. It was a bit faded but Vatryn could still make it out. Many of the words made no sense but the picture of the lake recalled that the city in the middle was the one he saw.

"Hell, that could have been messy. Good thing I left or else a lot more dead bodies would land on the ground. Ok now let's see."

The map didn't make much sense to Vatryn but some of the words were somewhat spelled out in Tamrielic.

"He said Hagge, didn't he?" he asked, mouthing out the word phonetically.

Vatryn circled his finger over the map until finally, he spotted a word that looked as though it might sound like Hagge.

"So follow the river east of there," he said, dragging his finger over. "Simid told me Iorveth is near the border so it must the town that's near the river. Pon-tar? Iorveth must live in the forests surrounding this town. So where I'm at, I should follow the river by me east, then the road north and then east again on the road from this Hagge place."

Rolling back the map into his pouch, Vatryn continued on his unique journey. Upon exiting the forest and seeing the river, the sky's one moon looked quite a sight to behold. Yet Vatryn sighed away from it, for its one moon was just another reminder that he doesn't belong.

* * *

**Thoughts and Critiques about the story are welcome.**


	4. Convincing the Doubters

**Chapter 4: Convincing the Doubters**

* * *

Vatryn hummed along as he skipped, jumped, and sauntered through the forest trail. It was coming up to be his top five most peaceful ventures yet, both in this world and Nirn. A part of him though did feel a bit bored; for what is the point in being skilled if you have no chance to test it?

"_Those white creatures were a bit of a challenge,_" he thought, rubbing his chin as the fight against the creatures played out in his mind. "_No... challenge is the wrong word. More so annoying. __And what did that woman say? A witcher? The fact that there is a profession specifically for hunting monsters says that this world is infested. Yet the way they talked about them, why would they be so rare?_"

Vatryn could hear the flowing river stream clash into his mind as he walked. He looked to the river, noticing it stretched far off than others he saw before. Looking back to his map, he deduced it was the large river meaning he was on the right path.

Several minutes by and Vatryn continued on with his jaunter, humming a tune. The path became even more filled with forests as he looked on ahead. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see deeper in when on instinct he sidestepped as a barrage of arrows landed where he had stood. Eyes widened at the whistling of arrows, running behind towards a large tree.

"Hey now, no need for hostilities! I come in peace! Look-" Vatryn said, holding out his hand. Arrows blunted against his gauntlets, reeling them away.

"_Pretty weak arrows,_" Vatryn grumbled as he inspected over his unscathed gauntlets. "I said I come in peace! Hello, there's no need for this!"

Arrow fire continued on their course, a barrage felling if any part of Vatryn's body stuck out from the tree. Seeing no other course, Vatryn shimmed up the tree and through the leaves, he could see his assailants. Five elves, all dressed like those from Simid's band. Scoia'tael.

"_Great,_" Vatryn sighed.

The elves proceeded to draw up their bows still pointed to where Vatryn was. Two more Scoia'tael slowly began to approach the tree, sword in hand. However, one of the archers that Vatryn notices was positioned a bit behind the others. A smile crept over Vatryn's face, presented with an opportunity.

Pointing his finger, a purple mark etched behind the furthest archer. Trueflame unsheathes, Vatryn closed his fist and vanished into thin air. Instantly appearing behind the elf, Vatryn kicked him down on his knees and held Trueflame precariously to his neck.

"Alright, calm down! Don't you realize you're shooting at a fellow elf?" Vatryn said, lifting his hood off. The elves drew their bows, backing away as Vatryn held the archer in front of him.

They hesitated, their eyes trained on Vatryn but their faces showed a bit of curiosity at the one who called himself a fellow elf.

"Simid sent me. You know, from the Scoia'tael regiment near Dorian? I assume you all know about each other or at least aware. Anyway, he told me to meet with Iorveth."

The archers gave glances to each other, continuing to glare back to Vatryn. A few gestured their heads at one of their own, prompting one of the elves to lower his bow.

"You can- What are you?" the elf asked as his compatriots held their bow at the ready.

"Excuse my manners but you shot at me first so..." Vatryn lingered off, pushing his hostage off. The elves drew up their bows in reaction and Vatryn held his hands up. "Vatryn Brios, Dunmer, at your service," he said, bowing with a flare.

"Dunmer?"

"Dark Elf, if you want to simplify. And as you can plainly see, I'm an elf too."

"You're nothing like us," the elf replied.

"Let me guess, elves live long, pointy ears, and sometimes find humans annoying," Vatryn said, crossing his arms. The elf was taken aback, staggering away. "Yeah... thought so."

"And what do you want?"

"I want to speak with Iorveth. Simid said that he could help me with my problem."

"You think we'll just take you to see Iorveth after… whatever it is you did," the elf replied, waving his hands at Vatryn.

"I do actually," Vatryn said, approaching slowly towards the elf. The others drew up their bows but Vatryn continued onward and closed in on one of them. "If not, we can go back to fighting. But trust me, what you witnessed from me would be the least of your concerns."

The elf gripped his lips, staring back. He quickly backed away, gesturing to the others to lower their weapons.

"Very well, we'll take you to Iorveth. But first, you will hand over your weapons. This is non-negotiable."

"If it makes you feel safer," Vatryn said. He undid his cloak and pack and unbuckled his belt and sash as the elves could only look in awe at his glass armor. His weapons were another sight to behold, Trueflame brandished with glows of orange-red and his ebony daggers glistened off the light.

"Here, catch," Vatryn said, tossing his large bundle of equipment and weapons to one of the elves. They collapsed in one swoop beneath the weight of it all. Vatryn chuckled at the elf's lack of upper body strength and elicited more as another's arms fell beneath his pack.

"What's in this? stone?" the fallen elf asked.

"Money, weapons, ingredients, books, food, potions, and anything else I might need," Vatryn stated as the rest helped up their comrade.

"So lead the way then," Vatryn gestured towards the forest.

A line formed around Vatryn, half the group in front and the other half behind as they began their trek into the forest. It was a silent one, one that Vatryn could sense was more so out of fear. A few shook their wrists and the ones in front of him seemed to keep their eyes on him than where they were going. Perhaps he could allay their worries?

"So is there hot air or what?" Vatryn asked, grinning back and forth at the line. "Is it my breath? I swear, the bread only went bad for a few hours and it passed through just fine."

The elves raised their brows at Vatryn, his large grin even causing a few to walk out of the line. One even began to walk away before being dragged back in line.

"There is hot air and it's you specifically," an elf spoke up to a slumping Vatryn. "Your look, your demeanor, and your equipment; it's all very strange and to be honest, slightly intimidating."

"Come on, don't be like that. I'm a pretty nice guy once you get to know me," Vatryn smirked as he held his arms out and causing the elves to grunt.

Eventually, the escort of Scoia'tael came upon a small clearing. From a glance, it looked a bit stunning but it held the same aura Vatryn had felt from the rest of the forest. Old and decaying yet teeming with life and renewal. A river and small waterfall flowed by as Vatryn could see tiny fish swimming along the bank. The group following Vatryn spread out amongst themselves, forming a partial circle around him. He glanced at each side, the way they've positioned the circle's opening toward the river. Patches of greenery lined along the nearby cliff and the way parts of it were eroded invited Vatryn to narrow his eyes at them.

"_More archers_," he thought.

An elf dropped in front of Vatryn, a loud thud beneath him shook. The elf stood tall up to Vatryn as the Dunmer inspected over him. The wore a red band that covered his head with part of it pulled over more to the right side as Vatryn could see the scar coming from his mouth. The armor the elf wore was unique, for it wasn't uniform but bits and pieces of random armor. Chainmail, a green gambeson, leathers, and a blue sash all molded around this one man. There were also insignias displayed across his chest like he wanted others to know about it. All in all, a bit wore and rugged. An experienced fighter.

"Ciarian, who is this you've brought me?" the elf asked as he stared at Vatryn.

"A...um...an elf if you believe it. He said to have helped Simid and wanted to ask for your help," the one Vatryn now knew to be named Ciarian said.

The elf simply stared over Vatryn, head to toe and shoulder to shoulder. Vatryn tightened his sight as the leader approached.

"What's your name?" the elf asked.

"Vatryn Brios. And you're Iorveth I presume?"

"I am. You say you helped Simid?"

"I did," Vatryn nodded. "I owed him a favor so I helped his unit with getting supplies. Then he pointed me over to you."

"For what? Clearly not to join - Simid would have told you how. And kill me... humans would probably hate you more than me," Iorveth said, crossing his arms.

"I think it's obvious to you that I'm not from here or anywhere in this world for that matter. I mean look," Vatryn said, showing off his armor and pointing to his face. "Simid told me you have contacts that could help me. Maybe you know some whereabouts of a mage perhaps?"

"I might but frankly I don't see why I should. You're better off going your own way. Since you helped a fellow Squirrel I won't kill you, but your problem is not mine or the Scoia'tael's concerns," Iorveth said, waving him off as he and his group departed back into the forests.

"Hang on," Vatryn reached out. Iorveth paused in his tracks, slightly peeking his head back. "I know how this works. You say you won't help but change your mind as soon as I do something for you."

"What could you possibly offer?" Iorveth questioned.

"My services, my skills. I won't kill for your agenda but I can certainly help you with whatever is you have trouble with surviving," Vatryn said. "Your men can testify some of my abilities and since they're rummaging around my - Hey!"

Vatryn yelled at one of the elves picking out a small vial from his pack. "Don't touch that!" he said, plucking it from the elf's hands. "This was very hard to make and very expensive."

"What are you playing at here?" Iorveth asked.

"Right now, nothing. I'm just a simple man offering to help you with your chores and yet you're probably thinking of how I'll kill you in your sleep. So maybe instead you should just agree and allow me to show you," Vatryn said and held out his hand.

Iorveth stared at Vatryn's hand then back to Vatryn's eyes. He raised his hand and archers immediately climbed out of the shrubs along the cliff. They began to meld back into the forests, leaving alone just a handful with Iorveth. Iorveth then snapped his fingers, directing to his men to give back Vatryn's belongings.

"Finally," Vatryn said, skirmishing through his pack and putting on his belt.

"I'm still unsure about you but since you're offering to help," Iorveth approached as Vatryn buckled his belts. "You might be of use to us. And if you are then perhaps will tell you of some mages I know of."

"All right, so what can I do to help?" Vatryn asked, twirling a dagger into his sheath.

"For starters, you could help us clear one of our routes. A large number of Nekkers have taken up residence along one of them. We've gotten by well using the other routes but it wouldn't hurt to have more," Iorveth said.

"Nekkers?" Vatryn asked, tilting his head.

"Small monsters. White with sharps claws, teeth, and they attack in groups."

"That's what they're called? I killed like twenty of them yesterday so it shouldn't be a problem. Wait, if they're that easy to kill, why haven't you got rid of them?"

"We have other business that requires our attention."

"Which is?"

"None of your concern. Just do this request and I'll see if your worth as much as you say you are."

"Fine," Vatryn sighed. "Where will I find these nekkers?"

"I will send a guide with you to show you. Ardi," Iorveth called. His voice reached out to a bush, to which a short, stocky person in chainmail ran through.

"Yes, Iorveth?" the short man asked.

"Take... our associate here to where the nekkers blocking our route are," Iorveth said, gesturing to Vatryn. "And make sure you observe how he does."

"Aye, I'll make sure to watch this..." Ardi said. His words lingered as he looked up towards Vatryn. The Dunmer stared in awe at Ardi, his mouth slightly agape and his head tilting around to catch a better view.

"You got shite in your eyes mate? Quit staring at me," Ardi raised in protest.

"Oh, sorry, its just...well, I've never seen a short human before," Vatryn said.

"Human? You fuckling blind? I'm a dwarf, plain as day."

"Dwarf? Oh well, nevermind then."

"What do you mean-"

"Ardi," Iorveth interrupted.

"Right, right. Let's go then, gray elf. Time's a-wasting," Ardi jogged away as Vatryn followed.

As Vatryn followed the dwarf, he glanced back to Iorveth. The commando's one eye stared intently at Vatryn before losing sight within the trees. Turning back, the dwarf slowed his speed to Vatryn's side.

"Gray one, why'd you look all disappointed at me? You got something against dwarves?" Ardi asked, flaring up his nostrils.

"No, of course not," Vatryn shook his head. "It's just... where I come from, dwarves are different."

"How so?" Ardi asked, stressing his words.

"For one, technically it would be incorrect to call my dwarves... well, dwarves. They're not short and stocky like you but elves that lived underground. The only thing you both seem to have in common is the beards. But the biggest difference I'd say is that my dwarves back home are extinct."

"They're what!? Extinct?" Ardi asked, stopping in his tracks.

"Extinct might have been the wrong word," Vatryn said, pondering as he grabbed his chin. "But the point still stands that they're essentially gone. Have been for thousands of years. All I know is that they were messing with a powerful artifact and then went 'poof'. The entire race just disappears, never to be seen again. Now, all that's left are their underground cities and their contraptions."

"I didn't understand any of that nonsense you just said. I like to keep things simple; follow Iorveth and hate humans."

"There you Scoia'tael go again with the whole hating humans thing. You really hold a grudge, don't you?" Vatryn asked.

The dwarf snarked back at Vatryn with a glare, stopping Vatryn as he looked into his eyes. Ones filled with rage and causing Vatryn to realize his words.

"You don't know what I've been through, gray one! My wife was raped and killed by a bunch of racists and then my kids were beaten to death because some peasant farmers thought they stole food he never had. "

"Okay, I'm sorry," Vatryn quickly said back, waving his hands in defeat. "I didn't realize your hatred was very personal to you."

"Yeah, well... ah... nevermind," Ardi replied, waving Vatryn off. "Let's just keep going."

"Fine by me."

* * *

They came upon a large grove of trees in front of them, prompting Ardi to crouch low to the ground. Vatryn followed suit as they crawled into the tree's shrubs and peeked through the leaves. A crater was below them, filled with nekkers from every corner. Their mounds were spread all over as they walked around, squealing their strange noise with every step.

"_Look at all them buggers. Must be near fifteen of them,_" Ardi whispered.

Vatryn scanned over the area, probing for any signs of vulnerability. The nekkers were numerous but were spread far apart which negated any chance of killing them in one shot. And there was no telling if there were any more underground.

"So what are you planning? Gonna chop em up with your sword, use fire to burn their holes, or maybe some elven trick you have."

"Hmm..." Vatryn grumbled, rubbing his chin. "Nope. I'm going to make them kill each other."

"You're gonna what?" the dwarf questioned.

Vatryn extended his palm silently through the leaves and a tiny red ball of energy began to swirl from it. Ardi's beard shook into his cheeks as he saw several of the red balls expelling from his palm. The energy enveloped all of the nekkers, leaving a bright red glow over their bodies. They began to hiss and screech at one another and baring their claws. One nekker swiped across another's chest, rolling down to others and a chain reaction of attacks linked over. Nekkers began emerging from their mounds to attack but red glows formed over them, as they clawed each other even inside their mounds.

Ardi looked on at the massacre, his mouth wide opened as the nekkers tore each other limb from limb; biting, stabbing, and gushes of nekker blood splattered over the ground and gushed from their corpses. He then glanced over to Vatryn, who to his surprise was not fazed at all. Vatryn's eyes narrowly focused on the nekker massacre, his pupils following their movements, their speed, and ferocity.

Jump, claw, multi-strike up close. Flip, swipe, bite, Vatryn recounted over the nekker's moves. Five left, four, three, two, one.

Vatryn stood out from the shrubs and threw a dagger to the last nekker. It pierced deep into its skull, screeching out a loud gurgle before succumbing to the blood loss.

Ardi quickly stepped out, his eyes widened as he looked below to the massacre of nekkers. He looked towards Vatryn, his eyes still in shock as the Dunmer showed no emotion to what he did. He simply slid down to the crater and picked up his dagger.

"What the fuck was that? Magic?" Ardi asked as he ran up to Vatryn.

"No, it was snowberry jelly that I had for breakfast," Vatryn said, rolling his eyes. "Have you never seen magic before?"

"Yeah but just fire or teleporting to places. Not making things kill each other."

"Must have been amateur mages you saw," Vatryn shrugged. "I don't know what mages here are capable of but what I just did wasn't that hard. I just cast a minor Illusion spell on them."

"Illusion?" Ardi asked.

"It's the name of the school the spell is classified under," Vatryn said.

Ardi tilted his head, confused about what Vatryn said. Vatryn did not want to leave him to formulate his own opinion and proceeded to hold out his hand.

"It's called Frenzy," he said as the red swirl of energy appeared over his palm. "And it causes any living creature to attack the nearest living being regardless of affiliation. But it only works on those weak of mind so it's more effective against say a bear than it would be a person."

Vatryn's hand then engulfed fully in flames, scaring the dwarf back a few inches as he held his beard precariously.

"And this a simple fire spell," Vatryn replied as he shot a stream of fire at one of the nekker mounds, burning it into flames.

"Well, I'll be damned. It's no wonder you were able to ambush our unit. Half mage, half warrior," Ardi said.

"I'd say more seventy-five percent warrior but who's counting?" Vatryn said, shrugging a smirk at Ardi. "So, going tell Iorveth about how I amazingly restored one of your routes?"

"Not so fast, gray one. Our unit could have easily taken on these nekkers, we were just busy. You still need to do a lot more to prove yourself."

"Come on, what more would I have to do? Save your life? Comb your beard?"

"My beard has been getting a bit itchy lately. Tell you what, you get out all the lice and I'll tell everyone you're a real handy elf."

"I was just joking. I don't want to put my hand into that gross... thing of yours," Vatryn said, shivering at the thought. "Let me do something else like... saving your life."

"From what? Another monster?" Ardi raised his hands.

The trees from behind answered Ardi's question by shattering into pieces. A large six-legged creature with large pincers and abdomen charged towards the unsuspecting duo. The creature pierced into Ardi, dragging him over against a tree.

"Ardi!" Vatryn yelled but suddenly found himself unable to move.

His body was wrapped tight in some type of webbing and looking behind, he saw another of the six-legged creature; smaller but still formidable looking. And through the left side of his ear, he could hear the giant insect mauling on Ardi as the dwarf screamed in agony.

"Hang on!" Vatryn promptly said as he burned off the webbing.

The smaller insect charged towards Vatryn, readying its pincers. Unsheathing Trueflame, he flung the blade straight into the monster and its enchantment burned into the insect. It wallowed in pain and tumbled side to side as Trueflame ignited the monster in flames. With a reprieve, Vatryn then jumped onto the larger insect, sinking his ebony dagger into its abdomen. With its attention off Ardi, the insect rammed into every tree it saw; trying to wiggle off the annoying Dunmer atop.

Vatryn lost his grip as the insect jumped into the air. He levitated down, readying his weapons out but perked up as the insect began to shake violently in place. Green ooze suddenly ejected from its abdomen, landing on Vatryn's face. His eyes burned intensely and the Dunmer reeled back in agony. His vision was nothing but green.

With no way to dodge, Vatryn felt his body fly high up and down hard into the ground. A relentless assault pummeled into the Dunmer; non-stop as the insect biting and pierced on his armor, cutting his face.

Desperate for life, he streamed fire from both his hands and burned the creature's mouth. It staggered for a moment, allowing Vatryn to roll away. He opened his pouch for a red potion and imbibed its contents, clearing away the sting from his vision. The giant insect regained its bearing as well and screeched to Vatryn for another attack. Vatryn responded in kind by half-circling his hand for a purple barrier to form around him. Standing ground, he formed a ball of fire in one hand and an ebony dagger in another.

The insect leaped forward with the killing blow of its weight. Vatryn side-stepped at the last second as the force of the landing was absorbed by the shield. With lightning speed, he jabbed into the side of the insect as its green blood poured out. Yet it seemed to have no effect as the insect quickly smacked Vatryn to the side. Following up, its pincers tired to pierce his shield, but it held as Vatryn skidded along with the insect and stabbing it multiple times in its mouth. Relentless, the incest roared open its mouth and readied to spew out more ooze. It was an opening Vatryn needed as he inserted a fireball into its gaping maw.

The insect screeched out, large fumes of smoke escaping from its mouth. Tiny explosions rocked inside it. With one last step, its abdomen burst open and peeled back for a small cloud of fire to escape.

Vatryn breathed in and out as he approached towards the insect. Tt's corpse half-burnt and half oozing of its green blood. A bit worse for wear, his mind snapped back to the dwarf and rushed over. The dwarf was in bad shape, his armor torn around his chest, deep cuts into his face, and multiple wounds around his body. Vatryn listened for any signs of life and pressed his ear on his chest.

Silence bequeathed him for a moment until a heartbeat thumped, albeit very slow. He could not possibly dress his wounds in time and his healing magic wasn't advanced enough. A thought came to him as he looked around for his pack. He found it near the first insect he killed and searched through to find a large red bottle. Vatryn lifted up Ardi's head, uncorked the bottle, and poured the liquid down his throat. A small light enveloped the dwarf as his cuts mended themselves, tissue and muscle reforming back to new. The little man took in a deep breath, coughing and spitting up mucus as he opened his eyes to a narrow view.

"W-what...where…" Ardi barely could open his mouth.

"Slow down, Ardi. It's all right. A giant bug got you good but I managed to heal you. You're still weak so I need you to rest for now."

"I'm f-fine...gray…" Ardi protest withered as he fell asleep.

* * *

The dwarf was very dense for his size even for Vatryn. For bandits, in which their subsistence probably relied on nuts and stolen food, they've somehow managed to have fat members. Not to mention he was carrying the dwarf as some bride; not the image the Scoia'tael might approve of.

"Hey! Anyone here! I need help with a fellow Scoia'tael, Ardi!" Vatryn announced to the waterfall he was at recently.

Five elves and a dwarf landed down from the trees to rush for their comrade. Vatryn noticed they also had their weapons drawn in their hands, especially the other dwarf that looked pissed.

"What did you to Ardi, gray elf?" the dwarf asked with his axe pointed.

"Nothing. We were ambushed and I managed to save his life," Vatryn said.

"I-It's…" the sleeping dwarf awoke.

"Ardi," the other dwarf said as he rushed up to him.

"D-don't worry about g-gray one here. He-he is good in my book," Ardi said as he passed out from his words.

Vatyrn gestured over to some Scoia'tael and handed them over the dwarf.

"He's out cold but he'll be fine. I think. His body will be weak from regenerating so fast so he'll have to be bedridden for a while." Vatryn explained, "You can take this at least. It should restore some of his stamina."

"Thank you...um..." an elf trailed off.

"Really not in the mood to say my name again. Look, can you just... " Vatryn paused, sighing to find the right words. "May you take me to someplace where you have a fire around? A tent perhaps to where I can watch over your friend here."

"Uh... sure... this way," an elf nodded, waving for Vatryn to follow the group.

The campsite they stopped in was nothing Vatryn wasn't a bit used to. Better he thought to be a proto tree cave then to tent in a dust storm. Ane the sound of crickets and frogs outside made him feel less of a need to be on guard all the time. It serenaded Vatryn as he held a piece of malachite over a fire. Trueflame sizzled as he placed the blade on the ingot until it dripped to a molten liquid.

"Good," Vatryn mumbled to himself as the Scoia'tael looked on with intrigue.

Drips of the molten malachite were slowly laid over the cracks of the armor. With his finger, he'd spritz lightly with ice and chipped off any excess malachite. The Scoia'tael leaned closer, paying heed at the finesse Vatryn held and how focused he seemed on his armor. So focused that one of them crept up to his bag, slowly reaching their hand inside.

"Don't touch," Vatryn commanded as he continued with his repairs.

"How'd you-"

"Trust me, you do what I've been doing and you get used to it. Also because I saw you," Vatryn said, blowing over his armor.

"Just wanted to see what the armor was made from," the dwarf grumbled and sat back down with his compatriots.

"Well, let me tell you," Vatryn proposed as he set down his armor. He searched in his bag to find a small jug, cracked but not enough for it to spill, and took a seat.

"To begin," Vatryn said as he took a swig of the jug and handed it over. "my armor is made from malachite, a very light and durable green crystal. It's much stronger and lighter than steel."

"So you're an armorer too?" a dwarf asked.

"I only know how to do very basic repairs. The hole that's in the chest piece, I'd need a more experienced smith to fix it. Unfortunately, since I nor the material is from here, I doubt any smith in this world would know how to fix it."

"Blegh! What kind of drink is this?" an elf asked as he wiped his lips.

The other elves chuckled a bit as their compatriot handed off Vatryn's jug.

"It's Mazte," Vatryn said, taking back the jug. "Real popular back home especially among the common people. It's made from fermented saltrice, which I am assuming you don't have?"

The elves replied with a silent shake of their heads.

"Let me try that," one of the dwarfs said. He happily chugged its contents, some of it pouring over his beard. "Not great but I'd say it's the third-best I've had. You elves are just weak with your drinks."

The whole group sans Vatryn glared back at the dwarf and eliciting laughs from Vatyrn.

"Speaking of elves, where is your venerable leader?" Vatryn questioned.

"He's out," one of them answered.

"Ah yes, the whole 'I have a secret mission that's not your business' deal. My favorite one is the 'if you find out, then you die' situation."

"Don't talk about Iorveth like that. He's a great leader and brother-in-arms," an elf shared.

"That's right. Iorveth is the only one I'd follow no matter the cost," another spoke.

"He sounds like a good man from you all say. A great warrior, leader, and the last hope of the downtrodden. Well for elves, dwarves, and whatever other nonhumans that exist here. Of course, would you be willing to hear some advice?" Vatryn glanced over the group and for their eyes and ears to fall on him.

"You really need to stop this foolish cycle of revenge and hatred against humans. I may not be from here but I can guess from my own history that elves and dwarves were once dominant and now they're not," Vatryn said.

The group glanced back and forth at each other, blinking rapidly as their eyes widened back at Vatryn.

"I take your silence as a yes. Well then, here's what going to happen to you. You'll fight day and night trying to regain some semblance of your old selves while humans grow weary and tired of your constant harassment. Then they'll turn against any other nonhuman assuming they are guilty by association like all mortals tend to do. And now having finally exterminated any traces of nonhumans in their towns and cities, groups will form and dedicate themselves to exterminating any traces of you. You can kill them, ambush them but eventually, attrition will settle in. Your numbers will be reduced as more and more humans are born and each being told of the villainy and cruelty of the Scoia'tael. With a final push, they'll have crushed you, tortured you, raped you and in the end, you just think, 'where did it go wrong?'"

The Scoia'tael were wide-eyed at him trying to process what he said. Some looked angry as their eyes narrowed while others looked a bit somber with their mouths slumped.

"But don't take my word for it," Vatryn stood. "because what I just described happened in my world. Twice at least. And while it may not have happened the way I said it the end result was the same. Their cities, culture, lives, all succumbed to humanity. And what did they gain? Nothing, because they're all dead."

Vatryn walked out with his pack on before looking back to the group.

"I'll go see Ardi and then I'm taking one of your 'beds' for the night. Don't touch my armor. Good night."


	5. Mysterious Guests

**Chapter 5: Mysterious Guests**

* * *

The sound of snores and yawns stopped any attempts at mediation. Especially for the chosen one of the Dunmer as the veins on his forehead popped out.

"Ugh," Vatryn let out as he unfolded his legs over a tree branch. "For guys that like to keep quiet, they sure snore so loud."

The tree branch beneath him shook as he rubbed his eyes. "What do you want Ciarian?"

"How'd you-"

"I've heard you drop onto the ground for a while and only you make that specific sound. Every other elf here is quieter and a dwarf would have broken off this branch," Vatryn said as he looked towards wide-eyed Ciarian. "Surprised? Well in my line of work, you kind of had to be on guard unless you wanted a dagger in the back."

"Did you run afoul of assassins?" Ciarian asked as he leaned against the tree trunk.

"Not just assassins. Let's just say... Morrowind isn't the best place that looks favorably on multiple... obligations. Sorry but it's a lot to say and I don't feel like explaining it all in an afternoon."

Ciarian understood and sat next to the dunmer. The two simply looked out the forest, the silence between becoming more awkward the longer it went.

"So," Vatryn began. "Any idea when Iorveth's coming back?"

"Soon," Ciarian replied.

"How long is soon? It is has been three days since he went on his secret mission. All I've done is sit around on my ass."

"Do you always have to ask so incessantly?"

"No. But I usually get an answer as a courtesy so you could at least give me an estimate. Look, I've made sure your passages are safe, saved your compatriot's life, and even cleared those monsters from a watering source. Nobody who was thinking of betraying you would go through such lengths."

"We'll see," Ciarian said as he leaped off from the branch.

Vatryn could not help but ponder his situation as he looked over the Scoia'tael. Reaching over, he snapped off a piece of branch and began carving it with his dagger.

_Look at them, _he thought, _even for a bunch of bandits, they all treat each other as some family. A weird bunch obsessed with killing humans but a family nonetheless. And the way they speak so highly of Iorveth, I'd almost think he's some sort of Tribunal god. Or a Temple priest at least._

The rustling of tree leaves snapped Vatryn out of thought to below as a group of Scoia'tael jumped through the leaves. Other Scoia'tael watched on as the arrivals chatted with each other and took breaks to rest. Ciarian swung down from the trees as Iorveth also jumped out through the rustles. But another figure followed through with Iorveth, a human.

The human was quite large for one, a mountain of muscle and meat built-in his body. He had a bald head, light stubble, and scars over both. His armor was quite simple, leather and reinforced paddings over certain areas yet his arms completely exposed. The weapons he carried seemed to suit him, two swords on his back and two large daggers crossed over his chest. And above them, a medallion in the shape of some type of snake hung over his neck.

The foreign human looked up at the trees; Vatryn's eyes locked on to his and the human's eyes took Vatryn aback. They were cat-eyes instead of the normal eyes humans have. Was he magically enhanced or was it something more?

The man continually focused on Vatryn as he stared back; their eyes engaged in a battle for dominance. Then in a moment's flash, the human backed down and engaged in conversation with another elf. Though he seemed to have won, a knot twisted in Vatryn's gut and told him that there's something going on with this man.

Ciarian then pointed over to Vatryn as he spoke with Iorveth. The Scoia'tael commander listened intently at his second-in-command before looking over to Vatryn. A nod from his dagger received one back from Iorveth. The Scoia'tael leader pointed behind him, gesturing Vatryn to meet him.

* * *

After dressing into his glass armor and with Trueflame on his side, he jumped from branch to branch towards a small ledge. Sounds of music could be heard as Vatryn approached to see Iorveth playing a small instrument. The elf's performance went on for a few seconds, its tune a lovely melody as it perked Vatryn's ears.

"Nice tune," Vatryn said as he walked up.

"Thank you. I'm surprised you'd compliment a 'bandit' like me," Iorveth chided and put away his instrument.

"Doesn't mean we can't be civil," Vatryn said, crossing his arms. "If you want an insult… well, you're probably not that skilled since its a recorder and not a flute."

Iorveth ignored his remark. "Witty aren't you. I called you over because I want to confirm what you did."

"Crazy right? A minute after dealing with the nekkers, two giant bugs just attack me. They had like giant abdomens on them."

"An arachas."

"Arachas? Yeah sounds about right for a giant bug?"

"Not only did you manage to defeat two of them unscathed, but you also managed to save Ardi's life. How?"

"With this," Vatryn said as he pulled out a healing potion. "Made a bunch of these before I left on my expedition. They're basically potions with the same restorative nature of low to medium level healing spells. Greatly accelerates the natural healing process by tenfold."

"Impressive. And there are no side effects?"

"No. I know my potions and in all my travels, I don't think it's even possible for there to be side effects. He hasn't shown any."

Iorveth took his word with silence and walked over near the edge.

"I've done what you asked for Iorveth. More actually because I saved your fellow squirrel. Now its time for your side of the bargain," Vatryn said.

"Yes, about that…"

"Oh no. Don't give me that 'the situation has changed' bullshit. I helped you, now you'll give me access to your contacts."

"It's not that. Complications have arisen and need to be dealt with before we can depart."

"I'm sorry. We?" Vatryn said, leaning in.

"Yes, we. The contact you'll need is where my Scoia'tael and I are needed. There is a queen over in Vergen worthy of a crown and she has one of the most powerful sorceresses with her. She could help you."

"Then why should I stay? Tell me where she is and I'll be on my way."

"You think she'll just agree to help you? All they'll see is a gray elf, a powerful one at that. She'll likely try to kill you because you are an unknown, a threat. But come with me, they'll see you as someone wanting to help."

Vatryn sighed as he rubbed his temple in frustration. Once again he must perform a task just to advance a bit forward. "So what kind of problems are you having?" he asked.

"Two. Some of my Scoia'tael, women, and children are held captive in Flotsam. The other is that we must deal with some interlopers coming our way."

"It has to do with that human right? What's his deal anyway? I thought you hated humans."

"He's a witcher. He does what we need him to do."

"A witcher? I think I heard that word before when some peasants thought I was one. Some kind of monster killer right?"

"Exactly. Mutated killers meant to protect humans from monsters. Of course, humans don't return the favor and treat them almost as bad as we Aen Seidhe."

"Why? From the looks I caught, he just looks like a man with cat eyes. Sure he's beefy but still…" Vatryn pondered as he walked over near the edge. "Guess I sort of understand why you'd be reluctant to build relations with humans if they're that suspicious over eyes. Well, at least the ones here anyway."

"You don't know the half of it," Iorveth responded.

Vatryn squinted his eyes through the trees, as the town walls of Flotsam barely peeked through the leaves and branches of the forest. His focus caught the attention of Iorveth as he too looked in the same direction.

"What are you looking at?" Iorveth asked.

"Just trying to remember if I saw any elves locked up while I was in Flotsam," Vatryn answered.

"You snuck inside the town?"

"During broad daylight."

'What? How?" Iorveth asked, his eyes widened from the answer.

"Simple. The guards are a bunch of drunken slobs that can't tell the difference from their own asses. How do you think I survived out here? Nuts and berries?"

"No, just a hypocrite. You say we're bandits but you're no better."

"First I am better. Second I didn't steal from them. I left enough orens for whoever I took from. And thank you note as well though I doubt they can read it. Anyways, even if we found your missing people, there would be the question of getting them out. Fighting in the streets is out of the question so we'd probably have to take a boat or a secret passage."

"Neither of those options will do. No secret passages to speak and a monster prowls the waters that we'd be torn to shreds. But with your assistance, we can…"

"No," Vatryn interrupted, waving an arm. "I told you I won't be involved in your petty struggle which means I'm not going to massacre the whole town. I'm only helping you so that I can get to Vergen. Nothing more. Since there's no secret passage, then our only option is to deal with the monster. Think that witcher can help us?"

"I wouldn't count on his support. Our agreement is a simple one and he keeps to himself. You could pay him yourself but I doubt he'd agree."

"They don't work out of altruism?" Vatryn asked and Iorveth shook his head. "Kind of defeats the purpose of being a monster killer then if you won't help without pay. But fine looks like I'll have to kill the monster myself. What about this other problem you have? These 'interlopers'. I'm assuming they're related because of your 'secret mission' I take it?"

"Yes, the vatt'ghern, the witcher, said it was possible they'd suspect us. But to come after us they'd have to go by river. They're not stupid enough to go through the forests. By my guess, they could be arriving within a few days."

"Who are these interlopers?"

"The Blue Stripes, Temerian Special Forces. Human scum, soldiers with nothing left to lose that enjoy killing elves out of pleasure but do so with great efficiency and ruthlessness."

"Sounds like the human version of the Scoia'tael. Fanatically misled groups that see each other as the problem and that the only way to achieve peace is to kill everyone on the other side."

"You've made your point. But I thank you for the harsh words. They say the truth heals."

"Alright then so what? Do you want to ambush them when they come? Can't you just drive them away?"

"That won't be possible. The commander of the Blue Stripes would never allow that to happen. He's so committed to hunting me down that he'd willingly torture an innocent person just for the slightest information."

"So what are those emblems then?" Vatryn asked, pointing toward his chest.

"Trophies. I've defeated the commanders of all the other special forces in the North. And I relish the day when I take those silver lilies off the Blue Stripes commander." Iorveth smiled and raised a fist.

"I'm sure you will but that's not something I'm willing to do for you. Killing them makes me no better than you and will only contribute to the downfall of your race."

"Then what would you suggest? Lay down our arms and we'll live happily ever after."

"No, I'll make them leave. Let me talk to them, convince them it's a losing proposition to face us and that they should go home. In exchange, you should desist all of your guerrilla activities in the area. They'll go, I'll kill the river monster, and then we can go Vergen and part ways. Simple enough."

"You say that but as soon as you start talking, they'll just kill you. It's in humans genes to kill."

"You's be like them too if you were in their position. Fact is that mortals are just flawed and we're all susceptible to power. Doesn't matter how highly we think of ourselves," Vatryn said as he looked up. "Look how about this? We'll both lure them in, you make your big entrance speech while your archers hide in the bush. And if only if, they attack first that your archers can take them out. That way we can guarantee that the desired outcome will happen for either of us. Deal?"

Iorveth took a moment to process his idea, crossing his arms and looking back into the forest. "Deal but only to prove you wrong. As for the monster, you should talk to the witcher. Even if he won't help, perhaps he can offer you some advice."

"Do you know where he is?"

"I can take you to him. Follow me."

Vatryn and Iorveth waded through the forests and came upon some ruins. Its stone was old and decrepit yet had the grace and beauty almost similar to Ayleid design. Walking through an arch revealed the muscular witcher as he seemed to be contemplating.

"Iorveth," the witcher said as he approached the two. "I thought you knew I don't like being disturbed. And I see you've brought your other guest."

"He has," Vatryn stepped forward. "My name is Vatryn Brios, Dark Elf adventurer. And you are?"

"I am Letho of Gulet. A witcher. Now, got a reason for coming here?"

"I need your help in eliminating the river monster near Flotsam. Iorveth tells me you witchers know a lot about killing monsters and that you don't work for free."

"Maybe. But I'm not currently looking for work so I have no reason to take on such a contract even if you were willing to pay."

"That's what I thought. Instead, how about you tell me how I could possibly kill the thing. Like any tactics or how I'd go about luring it."

"Hmm," Letho chuckled, "you seemed to be smarter than most if you're asking that. But my answer is the same as before. I'd need clues about the monster if I wanted to tell you anything about it. That'd involve work."

"Can you tell me anything about monsters in general then?"

"I'd need compensation first. But I won't take coin. Don't have use for it now."

Vatryn thought on his response and pulled out two bottles from his belt. "How about these? An invisibility potion and a feather potion. The invisibility speaks for itself but the feather potion makes you much lighter, allowing to increase your speed and to carry more weight than usual."

"Interesting," Letho commented as he held the bottles. "This might come useful for me one day. All right. I'll tell you one thing about monsters. Ready?"

Vatryn nodded for his answer.

"Always keep spatial awareness when fighting large monsters. They tend to make use of most of their appendages so be aware of them. Usually, they attack in a certain pattern so setting traps can help to eliminate some of their limbs."

"You use any special weapons?"

"A silver sword is best. But if not, you can always use oils on your blade."

"How about this?" Vatryn asked as he pulled out Trueflame. The blade ignited with flames, taking aback Iorveth and raising a brow from Letho. "It's a sword that's enchanted with fire magic. It can burn so hot that I can cut through steel weapons and armor."

"Nice sword. Where'd you get it?"

"Trade secret," Vatryn said as he sheathed Trueflame. "So will it do?"

"It will. Probably better than a silver sword if what you claim about your sword is true. You could probably cut off its appendages with that sword."

"So is that all you have to tell me?"

"All that I will," Letho said, sitting back down. "Now leave me be. We'll speak again once the gnats arrive."

With a wave of his hand, the witcher shooed the two elves out as he returned to his contemplating stance. Vatryn raised his brow at the man, focused on him as he followed Iorveth out. The whole conversation was much too normal for Vatryn's taste.

"Does he seem strange to you?" Vatryn asked, pacing up Iorveth's side as they walked.

"Letho?" Iorveth questioned. "He does keep to himself but he's no stranger than you."

"Obviously since I'm from another world. The way he talked to me though. He wasn't interested or even curious about who I was and he seemed to give me the information all too easily. He didn't even question if the potions I had actually worked."

"You're insinuating that there's more to him, correct? I've no doubt he does but as long he helps us, then I've no quarrel."

"It's just that you come back and all of a sudden, this country's special forces are after you when they could have done so any other time. The only variable that I've witnessed changed is Letho. Coincidence? I don't think so."

"Unless you have proof that Letho is somehow betraying us, then this conversation is going nowhere," Iorveth stated, stopping at a tree. "Like you said Vatryn, it's not your concern what happens with 'bandits' like us. Worry about how you'll convince our unwanted guests. We'll tell you when its time."

With that, Iorveth leaped into the trees, disappearing from sight. All to himself, Vatryn sat against the tree and place his hand on his temple.

_He's right isn't he_, Vatryn thought, _why should I care about their fates? If anything, it's their fault they've gotten themselves into this situation. But still...I've always risked my neck for those in trouble even if I knew that it doesn't really help anyone. I guess only time will tell if I'll make the right choice._

_**Two days later**_

"Um, Vatryn," an elf said, peaking inside a dimly lit cave.

A pile of leaves rustled on a stone slab further in. "Whaat?" Vatryn rumbled as his head stuck out from his pile.

"Iorveth wanted me to tell you that its time to deal with the interlopers."

Vatryn rubbed his eyes, squinting to the elf. "What time is it?"

"It's morning," the elf answered.

"Fine, I'll be there shortly," Vatryn said as he laid both hands behind his head. "Where do I have to be?"

"The cliffs right next to Flotsam. Over on the riverside west. Don't be late."

Vatryn stared blankly at the ceiling, the leaf blanket he made slowly sliding off him as a breeze came in. Stretching up from his makeshift bed, he made off towards the waterfall with a cloth and bar of soap from his pack.

The sound of rushing water was one of the few things that allowed Vatryn to concentrate so the waterfall made it a perfect place. The flow of water crashing against him felt soothing to the Dunmer. It made it the perfect time for practicing speeches.

"Hello, there my name is… no that's too friendly," Vatryn said before coughing his throat. "If you don't turn around we'll… too hostile… Look, I've defeated a demigod so… ugh, now I sound crazy."

As Vatryn washed off the soap from his body, murmurs of voices caught his attention. Without delay, he pushed further in behind a few rocks under the waterfall. He peeked out to see a group of people, three of them, covered in tattoos and leather armor. They seemed inebriated as they laughed under their breaths and playfully shoved one another.

"Hey," one of them said, "know what I heard."

"W-what?" another said, slurring his word.

"I-I heard Foltest is dead."

"Wha?! How?"

"Said a witcher did it. And he was his bodyguard too."

"How da hell you this?"

"See I got a cousin who knows this guy who knows his aunt who knows her…" the drunk man stopped as an arrow pierced straight through his mouth.

The other two screamed in surprise as blood splatter on them and their companion fell straight on the arrow. A barrage of arrows silenced them as five arrows landed all over their bodies. Vatryn looked up above to see four Scoia'tael hanging off the sides of the cliff. They climbed away from their work as one of the members nodded off to Vatryn and followed.

_"Damn these Scoia'tael_," Vatryn muttered as he continued cleaning. "They c_an't seem to understand the concept of self-control. Nor privacy for that matter. Guess its time then."_

Suited up, Vatryn scaled along towards the cliffs. To his right, he could see the town and its inhabitants. This time though instead of going about their usual day, a large number of the residents look to have crowded around the main square. Ropes hung over a wooden scaffold and a man in a black hood seemed to be chanting.

_Executions, huh? Wonder what they did, _Vatryn pondered.

Approaching to the spot, Vatryn saw Iorveth and Letho both talking.

"Vatryn," Iorveth called. "About time you showed."

"Well, I had to look presentable. You expect me to give a big speech while there's dirt on my face. So how do I look?"

"Armed and dangerous. Now let us get on with this," Iorveth said as he walked.

"Is Letho coming?" Vatyrn pointed to the witcher.

"I'm the backup," Letho flatly stated, walking to some far bushes from the riverbank. "In case, you need any assistance once your plan goes awry."

"Pessimistic view. It will work and you Iorveth, you'll see that I'm right," Vatryn said with a flair.

"We'll see Dunmer," Iorveth said, pulling out his recorder and walking toward a fallen tree.

"It won't if you try to serenade them," Vatryn rolled his eyes, hiding behind the bushes.

_**Temerian-Aedirnian Border**_

A boat of armed men approached near the bank of the river. Sailors scrubbed the decks and arbalists scanned over the area. The mood of the men looked a bit grim, some ached in their knees while others seemed adamant at the prospect of going further along the bank.

At the stern of the ship, a hooded figure gazed over the surroundings. His steel and silver swords hung off his back, white hair rested over his shoulders and a wolf medallion hung around his neck. And like Letho, his eyes were that of a cat, glancing over the forest.

_"We're here_," the witcher concluded.


	6. Witcher, Meet Dunmer

**Chapter 6: Witcher, Meet Dunmer**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scroll Series or the Witcher Series**

**The Elder Scrolls belongs to Bethesda and the Witcher belongs to Andrzej Sapkowski.**

**A/N: Chapter contains original and paraphrased dialogue from the Witcher 2**

* * *

"Flotsam should be just beyond the point. We'll take the riverbank," Roche said as he looked towards the beach.

"Who's 'we'?" Geralt questioned.

"You and me. Reconnaissance…" Roche said.

"I'm coming, too," Triss interjected, coming from behind.

"You should stay behind. We're not sure what'll happen," Roche added.

"Precisely why I'm coming. Someone's gotta look after you two," Triss said.

The three made their way off onto the bank, crates of supplies stacked in a defensible position as Blue Stripes held their crossbows at the ready. Birds chirped deep in the forest and the water slightly crashed along the bank.

"Any news from your secret informer?" Triss asked the Blue Stripes commander.

"The port's been blocked and the merchants have been held up for months," Roche recounted.

"What about the roads in the forests?" the mage asked.

"Iorveth rules the forest," Roche said, going ahead of the group.

A trickle of music descended farther along the bank. "Hear that?" Geralt said, perking his ears.

"I smell an elf," Roches said, his hands close to his side for his weapons.

As they approached, they could see an elf clad in various pieces of armor and playing some type of flute. He seemed oblivious to them as he sat on the fallen tree, continuing to play as Geralt and his group stood below. Geralt exchanged looks with Triss and Roche, the three unsure what to say.

The elf quickly stopped his play and stood tall before them. "Vernon Roche! Special Forces Commander for the last four years. Servant of the Temerian King. Responsible for the pacification of the Mahakaman foothills. Hunter of elves, murderer of women and children," the elf exclaimed. "Twice decorated for valor on the field of battle…" he finished, clapping his hands.

"Iorveth - a regular son of a whore," Roche pointed.

Iorveth raised out his arms. "You don't know how long I've waited for this? All the plans in motion, all the traps laid...And now you come here of your own accord,"

"You aided the man who killed my king…" Roche rebuked.

"King or beggar - what's the difference? One dh'oine less," Iorveth stated.

Geralt slightly tilted towards Triss and whispered, "_We need him alive. Know any useful spells?_"

"_Get his attention,_" Triss whispered, a charge of energy fluxed in her hand. "_I need to focus._"

"_I'll try,_"

"Climb down and we'll finish this," Roche demanded.

"Hah! You're a man without honor, Vernon Roche. I'll not duel an insect," Iorveth snarked back before he made a glance back to the bushes. "But before we fight, I am supposed to give you a chance to flee."

"As I'd ever do that," Roche shot back.

"Not from me. From my new ally," Iorveth gestured to the bushes.

A figure walked out from the bushes as Geralt and his group was taken aback. An elf, of all people, with grayish-blue skin and dressed in some mysterious green armor. His silver eyes looked over them as he crossed his arms.

"I wouldn't call us 'allies' Iorveth," the elf said, "just acquaintances out of convenience."

_Hmm, so these are the guys, _Vatryn thought as he glanced at each one. _The one with the white hair, he has the same eyes as Letho. Means he might be trouble. And this Roche, he seems to have a grudge against Iorveth. Might be hard to convince. But the red-head, she looks like she's focusing on a spell so I should convince them quick._

"Who...what the hell are you?" Roche asked.

"Oh forgive me. I haven't introduced myself. Vatryn Brios, at your service. You know, it's quite rude to call a person a thing. To put it I'm a Dark Elf," Vatryn explained. "Look I know this might be hard but you all need to leave. I don't want any bloodshed to happen."

"We can't leave," Geralt said as he stepped forward. "We've come for the kingslayer and he's with your group."

_Kingslayer?_ Vatryn thought, _Letho?_

"Whatever it is this kingslayer did, it's not my concern. I'm sorry but I can't allow you to kill him," Vatryn said, "Perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement and resolve this peacefully. None of us need to fight."

"Who are you addressing? Me, yourself… or those archers in those shrubs?" Geralt announced, slightly raising his voice.

"Kind of hypocritical of you to say that since your mage is trying to cast a spell. Please, ma'am, don't do anything rash," Vatryn pleaded.

"How did you…" Triss questioned as the small glow from her hand faded.

"Know?" Vatryn finished, "I've been around mages for a while to know when they're about to cast. Listen, maybe we can find a solution that both of us can agree to. Iorveth, why not let them talk to the 'kingslayer'?"

"I'll not allow my guest to be harmed Vatryn," Iorveth shot back.

"There won't be any harm done. I'll make sure of it. They get to ask the 'kingslayer' questions and he isn't harmed. That way we both get what we want," Vatryn reassured.

"No, we don't," Geralt said, shaking his head. "The kingslayer framed me and needs to be brought to justice for his crimes."

"If it makes you leave and avoid any fighting, I would give him to you. But I need Iorveth for my problems and that's why we need to…" Vatryn emphasized.

"Enough of this piss!" Roche interrupted, "Die!"

A knife launched from his hand, narrowly missing Iorveth as he stumbled away.

"Spar'le!" Iorveth commanded to his archers.

"No, wait!" Vatryn yelled, only for his plea to be ignored.

Geralt and Roche took out their swords to defend from the volley Iorveth's archers unleashed. Sparks of red came from Triss as she waved her wand.

"Addan quen spars-paerpe'tlon Vort!" she chanted. In an instant, the arrows hit a dome that formed around the humans and turned into butterflies.

The archers looked confused amongst themselves, raising their brows and unsure what to do.

"That'll stop them," Geralt stated and looked back to Triss. The mage's eyes fluttered as her head swayed side to side.

"Triss, are you alright?" The witcher asked. Triss's response was slurred as blood trickled from her nose and passed out into Geralt's arms.

"You should've charmed the archers… They're coming," Roche said as he held his sword.

From above, Vatryn could see the Scoia'tael climbing down and face the humans. The white witcher covered their retreat toward the town as Roche carried the mage over his shoulder.

Vatryn ran over to Iorveth, a scowl formed over his face. "Iorveth, what are you doing?! You said you'd let me talk to them."

"I've kept my end of the bargain, Vatryn," Iorveth said as he walked off. "As you said, they attacked first so we're simply defending ourselves."

"That Roche attacked first, not the others. If you'd allowed me to continue, I could have stopped them," Vatryn insisted.

"No, you wouldn't. They were after Letho and no amount of bargaining would have changed that. Now they must die," Iorveth said.

"They're not going to," Vatryn said, stepping in front of Iorveth. "They have a witcher with them and something makes me feel is very skilled. I doubt a few Scoia'tael are gonna be a problem for them."

"He is right," Letho said as he emerged out from a shrub. "Geralt will have no trouble defending against them."

"You know about that witcher?" Iorveth questioned.

"Rather well, but he has amnesia," Letho recounted, "I took him by surprise when I killed Foltest."

"So you did kill a king?" Vatryn said, narrowing his eyes. "That was your secret mission, wasn't it? Maybe we should have given you to them."

"And maybe I should just get rid of you," Letho said, walking close to Vatryn's face. "You tried to sell me out. That's not nice."

"It's also not nice to get in people's faces. And I'd think over your plan if I were you. I've faced worse beings than you." Vatryn countered.

The Dunmer and the witcher stared at each other, their eyes narrowed and their fingers slightly moved to their sides. The sound of a bell interrupted the three as loud voices screeched from their position.

"Scoia'tael attacking!" a voice yelled.

"Alarm! Squirrels!" another yelled.

"See. What did I say." Vatryn said, walking away from Letho. "We'll continue our conversation later, Letho. Why don't you go see off these 'intruders'?"

"Where are you going?" Iorveth asked.

"To kill the river monster. But first, to get away from you two for a while," Vatryn said as he jumped off into the trees.

Finding a big curved dip in a tree, the dunmer settled in for a rest.

_What have you got yourself into Vatryn,_ he thought as took out a bottle of flin to swig. _I wanted to stay out of politics but I seemed to have swum up shit deep in the water. And knowing from experience, I can't back out of it without consequence. Now I've really got to leave this world._

The tree's height gave Vatryn a wide area to look over the area including Flotsam. A small cluster of people was gathered out near the riverbank, probably citizens and guards concerned about the Scoia'tael. Yet the main square he had seen before still had the wooden scaffold and looking the same as before.

_Strange, _Vatryn thought, _Why would they wait so long to execute prisoners? _

Vatryn looked over his surroundings; the cliffs where the Scoia'tael were are empty along with Iorveth and Letho. And it didn't seem any were left to standby near the town.

"Guess it wouldn't hurt to check what's going on," Vatryn deduced and made his way down to the main square.

**_Flotsam_**

The town was quite empty as Geralt, Triss, and Roche made their way to the town square. Its citizens were gathered there for some execution with its attendees being a dwarf and some bard. A combination Geralt knew to be trouble.

But there was another worry the three had discovered on their way to Flotsam. The elf named Vatryn.

"What are you thinking?" Triss asked the two men.

"That gray elf, Vatryn," Roche said as he crunched his fists, "he's gonna be trouble. I can just tell."

"That armor he wore," Geralt chimed in, "I've never seen anything like it. And that sword he had; looks dangerous and I felt my medallion hum."

"You noticed too?" Triss said, "When I focused on the sword, I had a slight feeling that there was something more to it, magic. Powerful magic like it was a source of its own. But I'm more concerned where he came from. He said he was a dark elf."

"Probably been hitting the fisstech if you ask me," Roche added, "His origins aren't something I'm concerned. He's working with Iorveth and that's all I need to know."

"He said he wasn't his ally," Geralt said.

"Well, he certainly wasn't his hostage either. There is no neutrality when it comes to Iorveth. You're either with him or against him," Roche said.

The three opened a door before them as a crowd of bystanders came into view. Cheers and hollers were screeched in the crowds as prisoners were filed up to the scaffold. Geralt scanned over the prisoners and spotted a dwarf and bard in bright red clothing.

"_Zoltan… Dandelion…_" Geralt whispered to his group.

"_My informer,_" Roche whispered.

"Just great," Triss said as she crossed her arms.

"What's the plan?" Roche asked.

"We improvise. Triss, stay here," Geralt said as he walked forward.

"Alright but no killing," Roche followed.

"Geralt! Geralt! Over here! Help!" the bard yelled over for his friend.

A guard stood in Geralt's way as he approached the scaffold. "Step back, white one," the guard commanded.

"What are you hanging them for? They don't look dangerous." Geralt asked, loudly for the crowd to hear.

"The charge is, Collusion with the Scoia'tael." the guard stated.

"Dandelion - an elven spy?" Geralt questioned.

"The bard's hanging for debauchery," the guard raised.

"What?!" Geralt said, his eyes widened from the statement.

"The sentence was, he's to hang for debauchery," the guard repeated.

"And a sentence is nothing to scoff at!" a crowd goer yelled.

"Exactly," the guard said, "now fuck off, will you. The singer is going to hang - this is a decent town for decent people… Witchers notwithstanding!"

"I'm not going to let you execute them," Geralt rebuked.

"Shut it! I'm warning you, don't… Ow!" the guard held his head.

The executioner behind also howled before falling over. Plonking sounds could be heard around the crowd as the crowd members looked around in confusion. The guard gathered his bearings and looked down to the ground to see a small ball.

"What the fu-" the guard said as suddenly the ball emitted a smoke.

More of the balls released the white haze from its body, filling the square with smoke. People coughed and wheezed as the smoke filled the air and many instinctively blocked their faces. Panic ensued as the crowd began shoving each other toward the exit, angering those pushed to push back. A melee ensued as the crowd punched and kicked each other out of reaction and the guards could do nothing but join in.

Even Geralt could not help but cover his vision away as he tried to get out of the crowd.

"Geralt!" Dandelion reached out.

"Dandelion!" Geralt coughed heavily as he tried to find the voice of the bard. "Where are you?"

"Over here! I'm… hey, what are doing? Get-" Dandelion's voice disappeared in an instant.

"Dandelion?" Geralt reached his voice out.

The smoke began to dissipate as Geralt could feel his lungs begin to breathe again. Rubbing his eyes, he looked up to the scaffold and could not believe what he saw. Only Zoltan was left with his noose and all the others cut. The rest including Dandelion were missing.

"Zoltan!" Geralt called as the hoped onto the scaffold. "What happened? Where's Dandelion?"

"I don't know," Zoltan said as he let a few coughs. "First I see you arguing with the guard and next there's smoke everywhere. I felt the noose around my neck fall off but the damn smoke blinded me."

"Damn it," Geralt said under his breath.

"Geralt," Triss called as she and Roche approached. "Where did that smoke come from? And where's Dandelion?"

Before Geralt could speak, a large contingent of guards came onto the scene as they broke up the fights and separated the crowds. A bald man in plain clothes sauntered through the line the guards.

"What the hell is going on here?! I said, what the arse fuck is going on?" the man asked as he looked for an answer.

A guard slowly approached the man and stuttered, "I- I- I'd like to re-re-report…"

"Ou-ou-ou-ou-out of my sight, Clover!" the man said as the guard stood there doing nothing. "A few ploughing bandits and you can't even hang them! And you! Stay there." The man pointed to Geralt.

The man walked up to scaffold with his hand placed firmly on his sword. "What the fuck kind of stunt did you just pull?"

"Are you in charge here?" Geralt asked.

"Forgive me! Bernard Loredo, Commander of Port Flotsam. Yes, I rule this brothel…" Loredo said with a glowing face. "Now I'll ask again. Where the fuck did they go?"

"I don't know. I'm just as in the dark as you are," Geralt said, "Smoke grenades were thrown here and nobody could see a damn thing."

"How do I know it wasn't your doing?" Loredo questioned.

"Why would I rescue just one friend when I came to save them both?" Geralt argued.

"Fair point," Loredo said, rubbing his chin. "Well, we'll get them later. Still got one here to hang."

"No," Geralt said, stepping in front of Zoltan. "You have no right to hang Zoltan."

"Interesting… because I'm the law in Flotsam," Loredo said.

"I take issue with that," Roche interrupted, "Vernon Roche, officer of the King."

"Well, well… Blue Stripes, the nonhuman hunters," Loredo said.

"Precisely. Anyone suspected of collaborating with the Scoia'tael falls under my jurisdiction." Roche said.

"So what? I can't go disappointing the crowd here. This scaffold is for speeches and hanging so unless you want a show, we'd better come to an understanding." Loredo said.

"Meaning?" Geralt asked.

Lored leaned towards Geralt and whispered, "_Give me a minute, witcher._"

Turning his attention to the crowd, Loredo raised his arms and spoke loudly. "Listen here. You may have heard rumors of the tragic events that transpired during the siege of La Valette Castle. Sadly, they are true. King Foltest is dead. Scoia'tael likely had a hand in this heinous murder and they probably sprung the prisoner from their sentences. So, you see, none of you can feel safe."

Loredo slightly glanced back at Geralt and continued. "That is why today, wagons with armaments will roll out into Flotsam's streets. I hereby declare a state of emergency. Await orders, prepare to fight, and ready yourselves to avenge your fallen king. Now disperse, go to your homes."

"What about Zoltan?" Geralt pointed to the dwarf.

"He'll not hang for now. Consider his charges under review. As for the bard though since he's escaped he's got to pay a fine for messing with official execution business. Three hundred orens," Loredo said.

"That's extortion," Geralt said.

"Call it what you like, I don't fucking care. But if he doesn't want his body full of arrows, the either he or you will pay. The dwarf is free for now but he's not to leave town. Come to my home after dusk while you're here; we need to discuss somethings."

Geralt snarked at the commandant as he followed Zoltan off from the scaffold.

"Oh, one more thing…" Loredo called as Geralt reared his head. "Welcome to Flotsam, witcher."

Geralt ignored him as he joined in with Zoltan, the dwarf sighing from the events while Triss and Roche came in tow.

"You all right, Zoltan?" Triss asked.

"Just fine, Triss. Thank you for helping me- I think," Zoltan said as he rubbed his head.

"I'd say your welcome but I'm afraid the mysterious smoke saved your skin." Triss smiled.

"Right, we're still not in the clear," Roche said, "We need to find who or what took Dandelion. And somehow I've got a feeling its the Scoia'tael or the kingslayer."

"They're not the ones responsible this time, I can assure you," Triss said.

"What do you mean?" Geralt asked the red-headed mage.

"During the whole commotion, I sensed a magical disturbance in the crowd. Almost similar to a teleportation spell. I tried to detect where it went but can't for some reason. The spell seems to have left its mark all over the place."

"So a mage must have teleported away with Dandelion," Geralt said, placing a hand over his chin.

"A powerful one no doubt," Triss added, "The only mages I know that can teleport that quickly are not in Flotsam."

"Aye, but knowing who kidnapped Dandelion isn't going to help find him," Zoltan said, "Geralt, maybe you can try to track where the kidnapper came from. Maybe you could check the scaffolds."

As Geralt pondered on what to do next, Roche noticed something sticking out the back of Zoltan's collar. Triss and Geralt wearily looked at the Blue Stripes commander as he came up behind the dwarf and yanked out the item.

"Ow! Hey, what the fuck are you…" Zoltan berated as he rubbed his neck.

Roche ignored him as he held out a folded note. Unfolding and reading it over, Roche squinted at its content.

"What's it say?" Geralt asked.

"A sketch of the area and some writing at the bottom. But I can't read it," Roche said, handing the note to Triss.

"Neither can I. I've never seen any language like this. It's a good thing whoever wrote this also drew a map. It has directions that point to a cave covered in shrubs, south of here," Triss said, handing the note to Geralt.

"We should expect trouble and be on guard for whoever took Dandelion. So ready?"

"You go on ahead," Roche said, "I've got to make sure the rest of the Blue Stripes made it in."

"And I'll save you all a seat at the tavern," Zoltan said, pumping a fist. "Just make sure you bring back our lovable bard back in one piece."

Geralt nodded and said, "Don't worry Zoltan. We will. Come on Triss."

**_Vatryn's hideout_**

"Off me!" Dandelion demanded as landed flat on his face. The bard's eyes could barely see but the splotches of light one see when staring briefly at the sun. A few seconds in, his eyes returned to normal and his vision filled with a rocky wall with light barely shining on.

"You okay there?" Vatryn asked as he sat stood over the bard. "That spell can be jarring for first-timers especially those that haven't teleported before."

Dandelion took a moment as he stared back at the elf, his response lagging. His pupils then shrunk as he took in the full view of the dark elf. Without warning, Dandelion sprinted away from Vatryn, following to the source of light through the shrubs at the entrance.

But Dandelion's escape was too hasty as his foot landed on nothing but air. The tree canopies were at his eye level and Dandelion felt the force of gravity pull his body to the earth below.

A tug on his vest pulled the unlucky bard back into the cave for him to land on his back. Dandelion elicited a groan of pain as he looked up to his savior.

"Woah there, you should be careful. It's a really bad idea to run out a cave with a 40-foot drop below. 30 feet if you don't include the ceiling." Vatryn said as he grinned.

"Wh-who are you?" Dandelion asked, holding a hand to protect his body.

"I'm getting quite tired of saying this but the name is Vatryn. Vatryn Brios," he said, holding out his hand.

Dandelion hesitated as his hand was still close to his chest. But thinking about this elf's cheery demeanor and his limited options of escape, he accepted Vatryn's offer.

"See, I'm not so bad," Vatryn said and proceeded deeper into the cave. "Hey, so...um… are you hungry or thirsty maybe. I can't imagine they would have given you anything if they were gonna execute you."

"Umm… sure. I guess I could eat and drink." Dandelion said as he slightly eyed the entrance behind.

"Perfect," Vatryn said as he snapped his fingers and ignited a small pile of wood. "Come on then. You can't eat and drink properly while standing."

Dandelion before the small fire as Vatryn held a chicken leg over it.

"Is alcohol fine for you?" Vatryn asked with a bottle in a hand.

"The best actually," Dandelion remarked, grabbing the bottle.

"So what's your name?"

"My name is...um… Julian Alfred Pankratz but most people call me Dandelion."

"Pleasure to meet you then Dandelion. Wish it was under better circumstances than a dark cave but we can't always get what we want," Vatryn said as he handed Dandelion the cooked chicken leg.

"Where did you get this?" Dandelion questioned as he took another bite.

"From town…" Vatryn said as he looked away from the bard. "I… how do you say, 'borrowed' a chicken."

"You stole it?"

"No of course not. I left some orens for the people I borrowed the chicken from and I made sure it was in a place they'd see. Besides, I couldn't possibly buy it in person. Have you seen me?"

"Yeah...um, well this has been great but I should get going," Dandelion said, backing towards the entrance.

"Going somewhere?"

"Yes actually, it's called Flotsam and I'm sure my friends are worried about my safety and I'd rather stay in a dark cave. It's just not style."

"I can help you down but I wouldn't recommend going back by yourself."

"Why?"

"Because you escaped from your execution," Vatryn said as he focused on the fire. "And I doubt the guards in Flotsam aren't exactly the forgiving type over a little misunderstanding."

"But that was your fault! You kidnapped me!"

"No, I saved you. There's a difference. And I stopped the guards from executing everyone else."

"Great. Just great. I am eternally doomed to this forest and Geralt must be losing his mind," Dandelion lamented, leaning against the wall.

"Oh, that white-haired witcher? He's not. I'd say he'll be here in an hour. Twenty minutes if he runs."

"What do you mean?"

"I slipped a note in that dwarf's collar during the smoke," Vatryn said as he took a swig of Flin. "It has a map that'll lead that friend of yours here."

"You're using me as bait?"

"Sorry about that but I saw an opportunity. I went down to see the execution and saw you yelling out to the witcher. And the way he argued with the guard led me to deduce you were his friend. I'd knew he'd come to save you and I saw it as a way to talk to him."

"So you did kidnap me," Dandelion said, stomping to the elf.

"Fine, fine. So maybe I did something bad but I also saved your life. So that means it cancels each other out."

"It does not."

"Your opinion. So, willing to wait until your friend gets here?"

"Do I have a choice?" Dandelion said as he sat back down at the fire.

"You can climb down if you want but I'm not helping you."

"What if I make you?"

Vatryn laughed uncontrollably at the bard's words and fell back onto his back. Dandelion frowned as the laughs from the elf continued for a few seconds. Vatryn took a breather for the air to return into him.

Sitting up, he could see the bard's frowning face. "Oh, you were being serious? Yeah, no. I'll slap you if you try to do that."

"Fine," Dandelion humphed as he crossed his arms.

A silence bequeathed the two, the crackles of the fire made it awkward for Vatryn as he exchanged looks with Dandelion.

"So..." Vatryn began, "I've noticed you don't seem interested in my background or anything. Like are you not curious about my magic, where I'm from, my race, or hell even my interests?"

"Now that you mention it, I am curious about what you are. A gray elf with pretty strange armor."

"I couldn't tell you much about the armor but I can answer the first part. I am a dark elf or dunmer is the more official name. I'm an adventurer from Morrowind."

"Morrowind?"

"A country that's ruled by dunmer like me. Of course, I'm a bit different since I have silver irises instead of the usual red eyes dunmer usually have."

"Is that bad?"

"Not unless you want to be a true dunmer. Well, that and the fact that I'm not from Morrowind. Dark elves are… suspicious of outsiders to say the least. Don't get me started on the whole slavery business."

"Elves that practice slavery? Hmm, an unusual combination of words that I've heard of yet. You must have a lot of stories to tell."

"I guess you could say that. You're a bard right?" Vatryn asked for Dandelion to nod. "So that means you'd like a good story right?"

Vatryn leaned down behind and searched in his bag. Dandelion tried to see what Vatryn was searching for until a quick yes came from his mouth.

"Here, catch," Vatryn commanded as he threw Dandelion a notepad and some chunky block. "You can write with that onto the notes."

Dandelion glanced from the notepad to Vatryn and back to entrance in rotation.

_Well, Geralt won't be for while and it does beat having to sit in silence,_ Dandelion thought.

"All right. What kind of story did you have in mind?"

"How about I tell about the time I dismantled a criminal organization that had planted itself within a mercenary guild?" Vatryn said as he began to recount his tale.

**_Forests outside Flotsam_**

"This is the place," Triss said as she put away the note.

"Are you sure?" Geralt questioned.

"Yes, I'm sure. I followed the directions as the map showed."

"But I don't see the cave that was drawn on the note. Maybe we made a wrong turn," Geralt said as he grabbed the note.

"I know how to read a map, Geralt," Triss contested, crossing her arms.

"I just want to make sure we're at the right spot," Geralt said, "Dandelion could be in trouble."

"I'm sure he's fine. If anything, we should worry about whoever took Dandelion. Maybe we should call out his name." Triss suggested.

"Dandelion!" Geralt called out.

"Dandelion!" Triss yelled.

"Geralt! Triss! Up here!" Dandelion responded for his friends to look up to the waving bard.

"Dandelion, are you all right?" Geralt asked.

"Don't worry. I'm fine. I think I have enough material to write two new ballads."

"What?" Geralt questioned. "Dandelion, stay right there. Triss will teleport you off."

"No wait," the bard interrupted, "I'll come down myself. There's someone that wants to talk with you."

"Dandelion, wait…" Geralt said only for the bard to rush back inside the cave.

The witcher tapped his foot furiously and Triss turned to him.

"What's Dandelion thinking?" Geralt asked as he looked down. "Think Dandelion is talking about the one who snatched him?"

"There's no question," Triss stated.

"We should be ready," Geralt replied and Triss nodded.

Geralt's medallion hummed on his chest and Triss sensed the source of it too. It was directly on the ground, a few feet from them and in an instant, two people popped into existence before them. Dandelion stumbled over to them as Geralt drew his steel sword and Triss readied a fireball.

"Hello there witcher," Vatryn said as he approached, "we need to talk."


	7. First Job

**First Job **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scroll Series or the Witcher Series**

**The Elder Scrolls belong to Bethesda and the Witcher belongs to Andrzej Sapkowski.**

**A/N: Chapter contains original and paraphrased dialogue from the Witcher 2**

**Also, be sure to read Dragon's War for Thedas as it happens concurrently with this story.**

* * *

A gray elf will kidnap your friend and use him as bait. Change the first three words with something else and Geralt might have believed it. Yet here he was, the unbelievable talking to him. A gray elf, coyly grinning at Geralt and Triss with his arms crossed. As he believed this situation wasn't serious.

But then what could he want? That green armor he wore and the curved sword strapped to his belt. Something about their aura and the way they looked made Geralt weary. And that spell he used. It was similar to teleportation but different. The gray elf had popped in front of them with his fist raised. Like it was something simple.

"So, are you just gonna stand there with your jaw open or should I talk first?" Vatryn asked.

"You think this funny?" Geralt asked.

"Woah, hold on you two," Dandelion waved, stepping in front of Vatyrn. "There's no need to be hostile. Vatryn is a pretty nice elf once you talk to him. He has some contradictory values but you find his stories quite interesting to listen to. He's pretty decent from what he tells and they don't seem like lies to me."

Geralt and Triss glanced at each other. If there friend Dandelion had indeed vouched for him…

"All right then," Geralt said as he and Triss relaxed from their fighting stance. "Talk."

"Boy, aren't you friendly," Vatryn said, "First, a reintroduction is in order. Vatryn Brios, Dunmer at your service."

"Dunmer?" Geralt asked.

"Or Dark Elf just as the humans prefer to say," Vatryn said.

"And what do you want?" Geralt asked as he sheathed his sword.

"Well, it's simple really. I need your help, witcher."

"It's Geralt and what do you need my help for?" he asked.

"Well, not just your help but your friend here too… um, I'm sorry, miss but I didn't know your name," Vatryn said.

"Triss. My name is Triss Merigold," Triss replied.

"Well, a pleasure to meet you Triss and you as well, Geralt. Sorry about the whole 'Iorveth trying to kill you' part. It wasn't supposed to go like that," Vatryn said.

"And how was it supposed to go?" Geralt asked as he crossed his arms.

"You were supposed to leave peacefully," Vatryn answered. "Iorveth wanted to ambush and kill you but I convinced him to let me talk. And it would have worked if that Roche friend of yours didn't throw a dagger at him."

"If you didn't want to fight, then why are you with Iorveth?" Triss asked.

Vatryn scratched his head. "Iorveth is not my friend if that's what you're suggesting. He just has something I need."

"What could Iorveth have for someone like you?" Geralt asked.

"Apparently, Iorveth has a way to bring Vatryn back home to his world," Dandelion said.

"Your world?" Triss asked.

"I think it's obvious, don't you think?" Vatryn held out his arms, fully revealing his body for a few seconds. "A Dark Elf that does not know anything in this world, is wearing alien armor, and can somehow speak the same language despite being unable to read it. Sure, pretty common around here."

"Hmph. Well, you're just as sarcastic as the elves here too," Geralt said, "So, why talk to us then? Triss, do you know anything about traveling between worlds?"

"I know that they exist but that's about it," Triss grabbed her chin. "I… don't know any spells on how to travel between worlds."

"That's a shame then. I was hoping I wouldn't have to go with Iorveth but it looks like I'm stuck with him for now. Well then, Geralt guess I'll just need your help killing the river monster," Vatryn said.

"River monster?" Geralt asked.

"The tentacled monster in the river," Dandelion said, "From what I've heard, it's blocking all traffic on the river, destroying ships that try to pass through."

"Exactly," Vatryn said, raising a hand. "And I figure, by killing this monster, we both get what we want."

"How so?" Geralt asked.

"You want that Letho guy, right? And I need the river cleared. Help me and I'll take you to Letho."

Geralt crossed his arms. "Won't Iorveth be unhappy if you do that?"

"Iorveth doesn't have to know," Vatryn waved his hand. "Besides, he seems pretty intent on leaving this place. I don't think he'll lose much with Letho gone. So let's take on the monster together."

"Hmm, maybe but…" Geralt said.

"But?" Vatryn raised a brow.

"I usually get paid for a contract and work alone," Geralt said.

"Ah, yes, Letho told me that you witchers don't do things gratis. Well for the first part, you can go ask some merchant about it, they probably want the thing dead anyway. Can't do anything for the second part though. For one, I actually want to fight the thing," Vatryn said.

"You want to fight a monster?" Triss asked, tilting her head.

"I want to see how tough this monster is. And I'm sure two fighters are better than one," Vatryn said.

"More like I'll have to watch the monster and you," Geralt waved off. "Besides, I doubt you have much experience fighting monsters."

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing. Fighting giant monsters is pretty easy in comparison to the beings I've fought," Vatryn said.

"Fighting monsters is no game. You've got to always be on your feet, use oils, potions, and silver blades. And even then there's no guarantee you'll survive even if you're a witcher."

"See this blade here," Vatryn pointed to his side, "I call it Trueflame. It's enchanted with flames so powerful that it can cut through steel armor. This armor I'm wearing, enchanted so that I take less damage and strong enough that even a halberd will have trouble with. I know what I'm doing."

"Maybe you should let him help, Geralt," Triss said, "He is offering to help us and seems pretty straightforward about his intentions."

Geralt stared back at Vatryn, the gray elf coyly smiling back. He didn't trust the man but the way he acted though. Cocky and unserious but truthful in his words. He works with Iorveth yet doesn't espouse any of his or the Scoia'tael's views. And with all this other stuff like his armor and sword, he's inclined to believe his story.

"Fine, then. We have a deal," Geralt said.

"Great," Vatryn said as he walked towards his hideout. "So how about we meet up at…"

"Hang on a second," Geralt said, raising his hand. "We still need to deal with the issue of you kidnapping Dandelion."

"Saving actually," Vatryn turned back.

"Flooding the town square with smoke and causing a riot isn't what I call heroic," Triss said, hand on her hip.

Vatryn lowered his head and sighed. "Fine, so what's the problem with Dandelion? They want to kill him on sight or something?"

"The guards won't attack as long as we pay them two-hundred orens. And figuring this was your mess, you have to fix it and make it up to Dandelion," Geralt answered.

"Orens? This country's currency, correct?" Vatryn asked. Geralt replied with a nod, prompting Vatryn to think. "Wait here a second," he said.

Vatryn ran over to the cliff with lightning speed. Geralt was taken aback at how he easily climbed the steep rocks, never to lose balance. He certainly had agility going for him.

"Found it!" Vatryn said. He proceeded back down from his cave and landed with a somersault. "Here."

The item Vatryn presented was a large pouch, filled with orens, amethysts, and pearls.

"Where did you get all this?" Geralt asked.

"Oh, you know, mostly bandits. Well for the orens. The gems I had in abundance with me before I came to this world and have plenty more in my hideout. So, is that enough?"

"Yeah, it's enough," Geralt said, hooking the pouch to his belt. "So do you have any leads on the monster? Descriptions, previous attacks?"

Vatryn stroked his chin. "I think I recall seeing a boat destroyed down by the riverbank, in some clearing down some ridges. It could be the monster's work. It's northeast of the town, near the river and next to some ancient bridge. Elven I presume since it looks similar to one I heard about back home."

"Then you should drop off Dandelion," Triss said to Geralt. "I'll meet you over by the boat wreck," she said.

Waving her two hands, a portal, swirling of orange and black popped before her. Vatryn jumped back a bit at the sudden portal, but somewhat in awe as he looked at the swirling vortex.

"Sheesh, Triss. Sure you're not overusing those teleports?" Geralt said as she disappeared into the portal and vanished.

**_Flotsam_**

Passing the guards seemed to be a bit more trouble than anticipated. What with the guards not counting right or attempting to steal from Geralt. Luckily with intimidation and some witty banter from Dandelion, the two made their way back to the brothel where Zoltan was at.

Yet Geralt noticed that his friend's head was not where it was usually at. He'd bump into others and stumbled over rocks, only for Geralt to stop him. All because he was busying looking down onto his notepad.

"Dandelion, why are you paying so much attention to those notes of yours?" Geralt asked.

"Hmm, oh sorry Geralt," Dandelion said as he put away his notes. "It's just what Vatryn told just seemed so surreal. Almost like your adventures."

"What kind of stories did he tell?" Geralt asked.

"Well, he…" Dandelion recounted as a body knocked him on to the ground. "Hey!"

"M-monster," the person stammered, coiling away as she ran.

Bells rang among the town and people fled away from the docks while others ran to investigate.

"Dandelion," Geralt said. He looked to see his friend gone, walking as fast as he could towards the brothel and waving a thumbs up.

As Geralt approached the docks, a tentacle slammed down onto a man that managed to roll away at the last second. The tentacle then felt around on the docks, probably for a morsel. A woman in a dress came into sight, her body glowed with blue as she unleashed a strike of lightning. The tentacle coiled in pain and quickly submerged back under the water.

_Great, a sorceress,_ Geralt thought.

"What sort of sorceress are ?!" a townsman asked as others gathered around the attacked man. "A lot of good you did. Can't you hear me?! Why didn't you help him?"

"He's alive, isn't he?" the sorceress said with indifference in her tone.

"The beast nearly pulled him in the water, while you stood, staring like a calf at a shit-covered clover!"

"Watch your words!" the sorceress said, slowly spelling out with her mouth.

"Where's this beast?" Geralt asked, receiving the group's attention.

"Ask her!" a townsman waved off to the sorceress.

"Geralt?" the sorceress's eyes widened.

"Ah, I guess we knew each other," Geralt said.

"Oh, lookey here, birds of a feather…" the townsman said to his peers.

"Let's say… I've heard of you," the sorceress said.

The townsman waved out his arms. "Master witcher, this is foolish! The beast near pulled Sosek into the depths, and you're simply chatting with this damsel!"

"All right, what happened?" Geralt asked.

"I came to Flotsam to kill the kayran," the sorceress stated.

The townsmen stood silent at her words. Their eyes shifted to each and looked to each other confused. "Kayran?" they said.

"The monster that has effectively blocked the port," the sorceress continued, "A moment ago, I had the good fortune to see it in all its splendor, but the local folk scared it away."

"Good fortune? You hear that Sosek?" a townsman asked, "That was some good fortune for you!"

"Why's the beast in the port all of a sudden, eh? Summoned by the witch perchance?" another townsman said.

"To see it in all its splendor!" a third said, crossing his arms.

Geralt could see that the townspeople didn't seem interested in talking. Their teeth gritted, fists close to their body, and how close they were to the sorceress. They wanted a fight.

"And which of you is ready to help the sorceress fight the beast?" Geralt asked.

"Why us?" a townsman shrugged. "Huge it is! Big as a mountain!"

"Then why get angry at someone willing?" Geralt asked.

"Well, 'cause…"

The tiny mob relented in their posture, scratching their heads as they tried to think of an answer.

"We'll tend to the kayran, the sorceress or I. Maybe we'll do it together. We'll draw it away from the port beforehand, to not endanger the likes of you," Geralt said as he looked towards the sorceress.

"Well, I hope you succeed," a townsman said, "I've no preference for who does it - witch or witcher… just kill the whoreson and the whole town will be grateful. Come on lads, let's get Sosek out of here."

The group of townsmen dispersed as they hauled their comrade away. A man dressed in some black tunic with an inkwell for a necklace waded through and approached Geralt.

"I apologize for interrupting, but I am Louis Merse, and I am the chief person in charge of all matters related to monster-hunting in Flotsam. It is in this capacity that I must inquire if you're willing to attempt to resolve the problem of our so-called kayran - the beast that now blocks all trade traffic on the river."

"So witcher? Are we willing?" the sorceress asked.

Geralt narrowed his eyes as he looked over at her. One he could handle but two strangers. What is this, a field trip?

"No," Geralt said.

"Too bad," the sorceress crossed her arms. "I was here first and I'll not relinquish the contract," she said.

Geralt's medallion hummed. He looked behind to see the sorceress's hand glowing a faint hue. "Fine, we'll work together," he said, wanting to avoid any fight into town.

"You must contact the merchants on the waterfront as regards any rewards. Madame de Tansarville has, I believe, already conducted some preliminary negotiations…" Louis said, leading in.

The sorceress nodded. "That I have,"

"In that case, don't let me keep you," Louis said as he walked away.

"All right, so who are you?" Geralt said, facing the sorceress.

"My name is Síle de Tansarville of Kovir," Síle said.

Geralt crossed his arms. "Kovir's a long way north."

"True. I had my doubts if the kayran was worth the journey, but those were dispelled with what it showed today," Síle said as she smiled. "Tell me Geralt, what do you make of it?"

"The beast must be huge. Maybe inhabited one of the Pontar's tributaries before, hunting animals. Then it grew for some reason and hunger drove it to seek fresh pastures."

"And on the Pontar it found trade barges burgeoning with obese, slow-moving merchants. You're partly correct. Cedric claims the kayran emerged from the northern swamps approximately one month past."

Geralt raised a brow. "Cedric?" he questioned.

"An elf," Síle said, "Formerly a Scoia'tael. Strange bird, but he knows quite a bit about the area and its living wonders."

"I'll talk to merchants first then about the reward and visit Cedric. I'll get back to you after."

"You'll find me at the inn," Síle pointed to the town. "I've rented lodgings there - on the upper floor."

Geralt nodded as Síle walked off the docks. Looking back over the port, he sighed in contempt to what he had agreed too. A mage, a witcher, and an elf versus a kayran. It sounds like a setup to a terrible joke.

**_Descent to Kayran's lair_**

It felt weird to Vatryn as he walked over to the boat wreck. Days of traveling by tree was a somewhat exhilarating feel. Being able to gain a bird's eye view of the ground and gaining the element of surprise made his work a lot easier.

_I wonder if that's how the Bosmer feel? Probably why they have their cities in huge trees,_ Vatryn thought.

As he neared the edge of his path, Vatryn spotted the red-headed mage that accompanied Geralt. Triss Merigold.

_Good, she's here,_ Vatryn thought, _maybe I can ask her about her magic. Or maybe she could point me to some other mages._

"Greetings, Ms. Merigold," Vatryn waved. "I see that your teleportation spell worked fine."

"Oh hello, Vatryn," Triss said, "Yes, well it did. What do you mean by that? Is your teleportation better?"

"Oh, no sorry. I was just saying it's a lot different from mine. See my spell isn't a teleportation spell per se," Vatryn rested an arm on another, raising it near his arm. "In fact, it's not one spell but two of them used in conjunction. You see first, I use a spell called Mark to 'mark' a location say a house or a market. Then if I am anywhere else, I activate another spell, called Recall. It essentially does what it says, I am recalled or teleported back to where I made my mark."

"Doesn't that drain a lot out of you, teleporting great distances?" Triss asked.

"Well, it does cost a bit magicka but I don't feel fatigued or anything when I use it. I noticed that when you cast that bubble shield, you fainted. What was that about?"

"I had to draw power from within rather than from the elements. But I think it better ask why you didn't feel anything? Do the mages in your world have some technique to prevent it?"

"Actually, where I come from, magic is everywhere. Basically, everyone can be a mage," Vatryn shrugged as he leaned against a tree.

However, Triss widened her eyes as she stared at Vatryn. He looked back, a brow raised as she quickly approached him. "Hold on, are you saying that everyone in your world is a mage?"

"No not really its…" Vatryn held his chin and looked up. "Everyone can be a mage but not everyone is one. To use magic still requires years of studying, learning techniques and how to manipulate the magicka to do what you want. Most people either can't handle it or don't see it as worthwhile so they choose other professions."

"That's… incredible. But isn't it also dangerous? Do people not go insane with all the magic that's in your world?"

Vatryn shook his head. "Not really. If they are insane, it's because they either found some artifact, have a crazy theory or some mental, physical disorder. And even if they somehow lost control, the Mages Guild or some local mage can handle the problem," he said, stretching his arms against the tree.

Triss slightly scratched her cheek, looking down the path as she waited for Geralt.

_A world where magic is everywhere, spells can be cast with just a gesture, and you don't go insane from the power. Every mage would probably love to live in a world like that_, Triss thought.

"Vatryn," Triss said, "the mages in your world. Are they organized at all?"

"You mean in politics?" Vatryn questioned. "It depends on where you are and what organization you're part of. Back home in Morrowind, one of the houses that rule is big on magic. The Telvanni, Dunmer wizards that believed wisdom confers power which itself confers right. They might be able to control the country too if they weren't always backstabbing each other."

"Politics is a dangerous game. Though I'm surprised an organization could survive constant betrayals," Triss said.

"They have something to deal with that. The Morag Tong, a legal assassins guild. Long story short, you approach them, they kill your target and are legally absolved of the murder," Vatryn said.

"That's barbaric!" Triss said, twisting her body away.

"I agree," Vatryn nodded. "luckily, the organization is only legal in Morrowind but not the rest of the Empire. My advice, don't visit Morrowind."

"I wasn't planning too," Triss said.

Minutes passed as Vatryn knelt against the tree and Triss waited over near the descent. It was awkward, to say the least as they glanced at each other occasionally. The round dome of white then appeared over the edge, Geralt with his monotonous impression approached.

"Geralt, good that you've made it," Vatryn said as stood up.

"Triss," Geralt said.

"Geralt," Triss raised a brow as Geralt looked away from her. "Is something wrong?"

"You could say that. Does the name 'Síle de Tansarville of Kovir' ring a bell?" Geralt asked.

"Síle? She's here?" Triss said.

"She is and hunting the kayran too," Geralt said.

"Why is that a problem?" Vatryn shrugged.

"Síle's one of the most powerful sorceresses," Triss said.

"So? I've defeated plenty of powerful mages. Probably more powerful than the ones in this world," Vatryn recounted.

"She is like your Telvanni wizards. Devious and manipulative," Triss added.

"Telvanni?" Geralt asked.

"Should have been here Geralt. We had an interesting chat about magic," Vatryn said, "Anyway, Triss, if she is what you say she is, then we shouldn't have a problem. The three of us can easily deal with her and I doubt she'll be able to kill the monster herself."

Triss placed a hand on her hip. "So what do you propose?" she asked.

"We go hunting with her. Kill the beast together," Geralt chimed in. "We might be all to find out her true intentions then."

"And if she doesn't?" Triss asked.

"Then we can capture her," Vatryn added, pounding his palm. "She's a mage right, meaning she's weak in physical combat. A few knocks to the head and she'll be out."

"A very optimistic way to look at it," Triss said, "though I doubt it'd be that easy if it comes to that."

"Hah, never said it would. One time I recall fighting this Telvanni named Nel-…"

"You can tell your story later," Geralt said, halting with a palm. "Let's get down there and look for traces of the beast."

Down from the bluff was a small clearing covered in mist. Light from the sun diffracted into a yellow hue and bugs flew around the moss on the rocks. As the three neared to the bottom, Geralt knelt to inspect. Multiple footprints formed with the humus of the ground.

"See those footprints?" Geralt asked.

"Yeah. Strange place for an evening walk," Triss said.

"Unless you're looking for adventure…" Geralt said as he and Triss stared over to Vatryn.

"It wasn't me," Vatryn said, hand over the heart. "This is my first time coming here. Like what's that?"

Vatryn's finger pointed over to several figures running around near the water. Geralt listened in, their roaring screeches shrieked into his ear.

"Drowners," Geralt said.

"What's the witcher's advice then?" Vatryn asked.

"A bit similar to fighting groups of people except more dangerous," Geralt said, twirling his finger in a circle. "Don't let them surround you, let them come to you. They're quick so you have to make sure you're on the move. When you kill one of their packs, they'll often scream in pain which leaves them defenseless. They can also leap out from under."

"Anything they're weak too?"

"Fire and traps to knock them down."

"Oh, then this will be easy. It'll be over in a few minutes," Vatryn said. With a hand raised, a ball of fire formed in his palm.

"No, wait…" Geralt said, only for a fireball to eject from Vatryn's palm. Sparks of red burst out from Vatryn and he gritted his teeth.

Geralt and Triss followed the fireball, its flames flying through the air towards the drowners. The monster though managed to see the projectile, dodging at the last minute as the fireball flew out and exploded against a far off tree.

"Vatryn, are you okay?" Triss asked the kneeling elf.

Vatryn held his hand tightly to his chest. His fingers spazzed and rattled. Now of all times, his magic just had to lose control. "I-I'm fine, thank you," he said, the sparks disappeared as he twisted and shook his wrist. "Looks like I'm gonna have to use my sword for now."

"You sure?" Geralt asked.

"Yeah, yeah, just watch," Vatryn said as he leaped down.

The drowners screeched at Vatryn. More popped from the water as they charged. Vatryn smiled back at the stampede, unsheathing Trueflame. It's flames crackled along the blade, waiting for a chance to cut the slimy monster.

Geralt and Triss jumped in, their silver sword and staff drawn respectively. But then Geralt's sense noticed something through his ear. Sound grumbled beneath the ground. His eyes widened as a drowner burst from beneath, ambushing Vatryn.

Vatryn's face turned serious, lowering his eyebrows. With a twirl, his blade sliced through the drowner. It only screeched for a second as pieces of it ignited before dying.

Lucky guess, Geralt thought as he prepared to the drowners.

Several jumped in succession, each swiping with their claws. One, two, three. A pattern Geralt had memorized fighting these things. Cut, and twirl with the blade. Each one cut down allowed him another free strike on the next. With Triss, it was easier as his flanks were covered. Her fire burning down those he missed.

The final group charged. Their claws ready to tear into flash. As the two readied to meet it, Vatryn leaped into a drowner. Literally, he leaped into one, shoving it to the ground with the bash of his shoulder. Within three seconds, he sliced through three of them. Cauterized through the flesh and blackened. His speed witcher-like.

The two lowered their weapons, content to let Vatryn kill the final drowner. But instead of his sword, his fist connected. Triss and Geralt gawked in amazement as Vatryn's punch cracked off the drowner's head. Blood spritzed out of its neck, the head hanging loosely before it tumbled down. Yet Vatryn seemed unfazed as he instead cringed at his hand.

"Ugh," Vatryn said, wiping the blood off into the ground.

"Really?" Geralt asked, "That's what you're concerned about."

"What about?" Vatryn asked.

"The fact that you almost knocked that drowner's head off with just the force of a punch. That's what I'm concerned about," Geralt crossed his arms. "You'd need a tremendous amount of force to do it."

"What can I say? I worked out a lot," Vatryn said, scratching his arms.

Geralt shook his head in response and approached. "I don't think so. Now it could have been the case that Dark Elves can be this strong but I can hear your heart beating faster. And you're scratching your arm. You're lying."

Vatryn sighed and looked away from the two. "All right then. You caught me. Truth is I'm…" Vatryn scratched his head for the right words. "sick. It's a disease that over time causes dementia, violent behavior, and disfigured skin growths."

"But you don't look to have any of the symptoms at all?" Triss asked.

"Yeah, the thing is, I managed to cure myself," Vatryn smiled. "Well, partially. See I met with this mage and worked with him to invent a cure. But when I drank it, only the negative effects were removed."

"Negative? You mean there were positives to the disease?" Triss asked as she and Geralt leaned in.

"There sure were. As I recall, they were increased strength and endurance, immunity to all diseases, and possibly never having to age again. And those effects strengthened over time and I… well it took me a while to cure myself."

"So you were lucky," Geralt stated.

"I suppose," Vatryn shrugged, "People in my world said it was because of a prophecy. Truth be told, I just cared that it worked. Though I'm sad to say that it only worked on me, unfortunately. For the others, all we could do was lessen their pain."

"This disease you have. Is it infectious towards others?" Triss asked.

"Why? Because of you two," Vatryn pointed.

"No, we're immune to diseases. We're asking about Dandelion," Geralt said, "You were near him and…"

"Calm down, Geralt. No need to be angry," Vatryn waved with his hands. "The disease I carry was one of a magical nature by a powerful artifact. I got rid of it and thus the disease could no longer spread to anyone."

"Good," Geralt said, "Then let's go find traces of the kayran and get out of here."

"What about all that green stuff on those rocks over there?" Vatryn pointed.

"Its mucus," Geralt said as he reached to grab.

"Wait a minute," Triss said, halting Geralt with a hand on her shoulder.

"What're you going to do?" Geralt asked.

"Cast a simple diagnostic spell. It should answer a few questions," Triss replied, reading her hands.

Vatryn and Geralt stood back as Triss raised her arms. They glowed in the bright light of white, the mucus washed with it as scanned from top to bottom. The spell completed and Triss turned to the two men.

"This monster is sick… it's dying," she said.

"How much time does it have left?" Geralt asked.

"A few years, perhaps a decade and change…" Triss continued.

"Yeah, I don't plan on staying around for that long. Anything else you can tell us?" Vatryn asked.

"The diagnostic spell showed that some of the cells in its body have mutated…" Triss waved over to the slimy substance.

"What makes you think it's dying? I mean, I'm a mutant…" Geralt recounted.

"The mucus cells I diagnosed are very similar to cancer cells. In some ways, they're more effective than healthy cells, but they're out of control," Triss said, "They converge to create a red tissue - very unpleasant."

"The poor thing."

Vatryn chimed in. "And I'm sure all those townspeople would feel terrible if they knew. Maybe send the monster a get well card."

Geralt shot a glare back at Vatryn, prompting him to shrug back.

"I'll be sure to sign it," Triss slightly chuckled. "But Geralt did bring up an interesting point? Want to know the core difference between mutants and non-mutants?"

"Of course I do," Geralt nodded.

"Let's say I don't," Vatryn said.

The two looked at each other, confused as they had spoken over each other.

Triss shook her head and continued. "The changes made through alchemy and magic in Geralt's body would require thousands of years to develop on their own. This development would result from genetic errors that would cause your body to adapt, become a more efficient organism - effectively mutate, but over a very long time."

_Ah, I see,_ Vatryn thought as he stroked his chin. _Must be how those Aldmeric-Nedic hybrids became Bretons._

"When this development occurs over millennia, across multiple generations, we proudly call it natural selection, evolution. When it occurs quickly, in a single organism or a few representatives of a species, we frown on it as a mutation."

_So I guess Azura 'mutated' the Chimer into Dunmer,_ Vatryn deduced.

"Hmm, and here I thought you liked me," Geralt said, crossing his arms. "What else?"

"The kayran's highly venomous," Triss added.

"Any ideas for an antidote?" Geralt asked.

"Your witcher's metabolism should be able to absorb small quantities but I wouldn't rely on it alone. An ostmurk potion should do the trick," Triss said before facing left. "But Vatryn, you'll need something else since the potion can only be used for witchers. Do you have any resistance to poison or a spell perhaps?"

"I have a necklace underneath my armor," Vatryn pointed to his chest. "It's enchanted for me to resist some poison and magical attacks. I also have my own potions to help further increase my resistance."

"Your potions aren't poisonous for regular people?" Geralt asked for Vatryn to shake his head back. "Well, I wouldn't know where to find ostmurk but I guess I can use Vatryn's potions if I can't find it. Maybe I won't need it if we can figure out how to fight it."

"Do what you will but don't say I didn't warn you. Ask some of the locals about ostmurk before you go back to Síle," Triss said. She then proceeded to hand Geralt a paper. "Here's the formula for the potion. Can you two manage while I take care of some things?"

"Mhm," Geralt mumbled as Vatryn nodded from behind.

Triss raised her arms again, summoning a portal. "See you then," she said.

The portal disappeared as she left, leaving just Vatryn and Geralt in the clearing.

"All right then Geralt. What's the plan?" Vatryn asked.

Geralt looked over the clearing they were in. It was wide and open with direct access to the water. And quite a distance from Flotsam.

"We draw the monster here onto the bank," Geralt said.

"How?" Vatryn asked.

Geralt rubbed his chin as he thought. "Maybe Síle could do something. The way Triss talked about it, the kayran was born of magic."

"So she might know something to attract it?" Vatryn asked.

"She probably would."

"What about the bridge there?" Vatryn pointed up.

"What about it?"

"Maybe we can use it against the kayran. It's old and worn down. With enough force, we could probably fell it onto the monster. If not kill it, then it could at least immobilize it."

"That could work. But we'd have to eliminate most of its tentacles if we want to get close to knocking it."

"That Síle mage can work it out," Vatryn said as he walked near the collapsed bridge. "Which reminds me, mind not telling her about the third extra hand on deck?"

"Why?" Geralt shrugged.

"To see the look on her face, of course," Vatryn said as he grinned.

"Do you take anything seriously?" Geralt asked, his voice cutting with displeasure.

"Do you always have to?" Vatryn questioned back as he approached. "Because so far, I've just talked to two witchers and it seems to me like you always have to be somewhere."

"Because we have too. It's what witchers do. Exploring the world to look for witcher's work," Geralt said.

"Is that all you do?" Vatryn asked.

"It's all I know," Geralt said as he walked back up the cliff.

Vatryn followed back and two made it up to the top of the descent. "If that's the case, then what's this business with Letho?" he asked.

Geralt did not answer back as he continued on his journey back to Flotsam.

"Fine then, you don't want to talk," Vatryn called out. "Just make sure you contact me at my hideout before we're ready. Preferably before going back to Síle."

The witcher gave off a simple wave of a hand, disappearing between the shrubs and trees of the first. Vatryn left alone, pouted his chin as he stood and walked away.

"Pff. At least say goodbye."

* * *

**Thoughts?**


	8. Kayran Fight

**Chapter 8: Kayran Fight**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scroll Series or the Witcher Series**

**The Elder Scrolls belongs to Bethesda and the Witcher belongs to Andrzej Sapkowski.**

**A/N: Chapter contains original and paraphrased dialogue from the Witcher 2**

**Short chapter yes but there's only so much you can to make a fight interesting. Otherwise, we'll be here reading how their arms swung in a particular direction.**

**Make sure to read Dragon's War for Thedas too as Chapter 24 is up.**

* * *

"Ten bottles of poison resistance, check. Forty healing potions, check. Fifty stamina and magicka potions, check. Forty other various other ones, check. I'm surprised this pack could carry this much."

The words rang true to Vatryn as laid out all the bottles of potions and poisons he carried. Along with books, gems, weapons, armor, and anything else he brought weighed over 150 pounds. Yet thanks to the Corpus disease, it weighed like almost nothing. Of course, that didn't mean he could bring his pack anywhere lest he wanted to scrounge for all his items off the ground.

"Let's see, how many should I bring?" Vatryn asked himself, intently rubbing his chin. "Triss said it was poisonous and Geralt talked about its tentacles. So resist poison, agility boost, health, magi…"

He stopped to look to his hand. Closing his eyes, Vatryn tried to focus on his magicka. He could feel something but releasing it, nothing came from his hand. Not even a spark.

"Damn it. What the hell is wrong this time? It doesn't hurt but now it's not working. Hmm," Vatryn pondered, "It can't be because I'm in another world. The magic here, it's the same back home just with different rules. Maybe I have to find one of those stones things again. But… wait that might take too long."

He sighed, scratching his temple with a finger. It would seem he'd have to rely on only his combat skills this time. Setting his potions, weapons, and gear, Vatryn donned on his glass armor and anything else he needed for the kayran.

"Vatryn, are you there?"

Vatryn peeked out from his cave and looked down to see Geralt. The witcher was impatiently tapping his foot and bent two fingers for Vatryn to come.

Climbing down, Vatryn flipped towards Geralt. "Geralt, is it time?" he asked.

"Yeah. But before you go, I need to ask you something first," Geralt said.

"What is it?" Vatryn asked.

"When you talked to Letho, did he say anything about his plans? Or who he's working for?"

"Geralt you can't expect me to reveal all my secrets," Vatryn said with a shrug. "You haven't bought me dinner yet."

"I'm sure Dandelion would just love to do that," Geralt said, trying to match back in wit.

Vatryn shook his head. "Ugh, if you must know, Letho didn't talk much at all. Less than you in fact. Of course, interestingly he seems to be in a hurry somewhere but he's waiting for something."

"Orders from his employer perhaps?" Geralt questioned.

"Possibly. You could always ask him yourself once we've dealt with this kayran. I'll go wait near its lair while you get that Sile mage," Vatryn said.

"You know I have to tell Síle about you," Geralt commented.

Vatryn stopped in his tracks and took a moment of sighing and scratching. "I guess if you have to. Just do me a favor and explain it clearly to her. I don't feel like fighting anything besides the monster today," he said, waving off to Geralt.

**_Flotsam Brothel_**

"Geraalt, you're back," Zoltan said, waving around a mug of ale.

"So how'd it go with Vatryn?" Dandelion asked.

Geralt seated across from the two and drank. "We're about to head out after the kayran," Geralt said, wiping the ale of his lips. "I just have to get Sile and then we can go after the kingslayer."

"Now, I've no doubt you'll be able to kill the kayran, Geralt," Zoltan said, "but are you sure this Vatryn will keep his word. From what Dandelion's said, he sounds a bit too… heroic, no… helpful."

"If he is then I guess I'm terrible with women," Dandelion added, "While his stories are far to believe, the way he talked about them made it real. Like it all happened recently to him."

"The part about becoming part of a hunt and killing the demon of werewolves sounded normal?" Zoltan asked.

"He did what?" Geralt asked.

"It wasn't a demon. He said it was a higher being that created werewolves," Dandelion said, "He was about to tell me another, something about killing a living god until you showed up."

"Now that you say it out loud, I really think he might have made those stories up," Geralt said, "But everything else about him seems to be true and he's a good fighter. Well then, time for me to see this illustrious sorceress."

"Good luck, Geralt," Dandelion said as Zoltan slid over a drink to the man.

As Geralt passed by the wailing moans of prostitutes, he came into the one room that barely had sound. Sile awaited, her arms crossed as she stared back at Geralt.

"Witcher, I've been awaiting you," she greeted.

"We need to kill a monster that sinks boats," Geralt said.

Síle paused for a moment as she leaned forward. "Afraid?" she asked.

"No, but I suspect we'll need to draw it onto the shore."

"Leave that to me."

A smile crept across Geralt's mouth. "I can't wait… I bet it's something… spectacular," he said with a dazzle of his fingers.

"Believe it. You'll do the honors," Síle said.

"The honors?"

"Once on the riverbank, you'll kill him… her… whatever it is," Síle stated.

Geralt noticed the way she said it. Her arms waved off and a big frown wore across her head. Like she didn't want to kill the kayran. Or maybe something more.

"Before we go, I need to tell you that we're getting an extra hand with this kayran," Geralt said.

"What?!" Síle questioned, "And you deign to inform the minute we're about to leave."

"I'm not your servant," Geralt replied with a cross of his arms. "Fact is, I could have damn well not told you anything but the situation would have been the same. It's three people for this job."

"Why are you trying to rile me? I've done nothing to you." Síle protested.

"Nothing except hide secrets from me."

"Why would I ever try to keep secrets from you, Geralt?" she said, her voice pitching higher.

Geralt shook his head. "Call it a witcher's intuition. There's three of us and that's that."

"Fine then. Who is this third accomplice? Triss?" Síle asked.

"No, it's an elf. He goes by the name Vatryn Brios," Geralt said.

"Don't tell me you brought some suicidal elf to use as bait. There are better ways to die anyways. Loredo's guards for instance."

"He may act like it but Vatryn seems to be a decent fighter from what I've seen. And he's not some Scoia'tael guerrilla either. He says he's from another world."

"That… are you sure?" Síle asked as one of her eyes widened. "You're certain he wasn't smelling of alcohol or simply just insane?"

"I thought the same as well but the weapons, armor, and potions; they can't be from the continent or anywhere else. And if that isn't enough, Triss and Dandelion can confirm his story as well," Geralt said.

Síle looked perplexed at Geralt, her eyes slowly blinked as she tried to process on her next action.

"If you want, you can talk to him yourself. I told him to wait for us near the kayran's lair."

"Then let us be on your way before he does anything," Síle replied, waving her hands to open a portal.

**_Kayran Descent_**

A sudden appearance of an orange glow startled Vatryn from his slumber. He quickly patted off the dirt from his armor as he looked to see Geralt and the mage named Síle came through. As Vatryn walked to Geralt, Síle halted his movement as she held up her hand.

"Stop right there. Don't come any closer," she said, "What… what are you?"

"What am I? Oh, you know, the usual spiel. A lost adventurer lands in an unknown world and now must face new challenges all while trying to get back home."

Geralt rolled his eyes. Síle responded with a grumble, crossing her arms and her eyes focusing on Vatryn.

"Think Vatryn. Forgot everyone here is so serious," Vatryn mumbled to himself. He coughed. "My apologies. My name is Vatryn, a dark elf. And I'm sure thanks to our neighborly witcher, he has explained that I'm here to help with this kayran business."

"And for what reason are you helping us?" Síle asked.

"I'm not helping either of you. Geralt and I simply have a deal that it involves killing this kayran. It just so happens doing benefits everyone here including the townspeople."

"Altruism then?" Síle asked.

"If you want it to be then sure," Vatryn replied, "Look, I'm not a spy, an assassin, or whatever else might threaten your power. Believe me, I could easily kill you now if I wanted to."

"Is that a fact?" Síle questioned, a spark of magic jolted between her fingers.

"I wouldn't recommend that," Vatryn said, crossing his arms. "I've defeated plenty of mages that had more power than you. I bet even the archmage of the Mages Guild could beat you."

A staredown unfolded between the two, Síle with her cross look on her eyes as Vatryn smugly smiled. Geralt then interceded.

"Are you two just going to continue this banter of yours or can we get started?" Geralt asked.

"Then you deal with him then," Síle said before turning to Vatryn, "And you, elf. Stay out of my way."

Síle waved off over to the bluffs with Geralt in tow. Vatryn shook his head as he followed.

"No need to be a bitch," Vatryn muttered under his breath.

"All right, Geralt. It's time to draw the beast out now," Síle said, "You and that friend of yours descend into its lair. I'll stay on the bridge and pull it out onto the bank. Take care, it'll be extremely dangerous, even on land."

The two men descended the bluffs and Vatryn began to speak. "Okay, Geralt, what's the plan?"

"When Síle draws the kayran, we'll need to destroy its tentacles. I'll use Yrden to trap them and then we'll destroy them."

"And then?"

"Then we need to get past its thick carapace so we can damage its inner organs. I have this grapeshot bomb we can use. What about you? Got any magic that could help?"

"Not at the moment, no" Vatryn said as he lifted his hand, "Something is… wrong with my magic. So for now, I'll have to stick to my blades and potions. Which reminds me, did you get that ostmurk potion?"

"We'll have to do without," Geralt said.

"I don't think so," Vatryn said. He pulled out three bottles from his belt, two red and one yellow, and handed it to Geralt.

"What's this?" Geralt asked.

"Potions I made while on my expedition. The yellow one will make you immune to poison and the red ones will restore your wounds within a few seconds."

"Are these toxic?"

"No. In fact, you can drink as much as you want. Well, I guess they'd be toxic if you mixed in the wrong ingredients but I'm a master alchemist; I wouldn't make a mistake like that."

"Well thanks then," Geralt said as he put away the potions, "Never thought potions this potent could have no negative consequences."

"It's a byproduct of my world," Vatryn added, "Since magic is everywhere, it's also in all the plants, animals, and whatever other ingredients I use. An alchemist from the Telvanni taught me that."

"The more you keep talking about your world makes me think its some kind of paradise," Geralt replied.

"Compared to here sure. That is if you discount all the Daedric invasions, evil mages, wars, and magical creatures."

"Let's go," Geralt said, sighing in discontent.

The fog had settled over the kayran's lair. Vatryn and Geralt could barely see-through, even with the witcher's enhanced eyes.

As the two drank their poison resistances, Síle approached over the edge. With a breath in, she waved her hand. A wind glided into the lair as the smoke dissipated. A flash then sparked over her chest, lightning coursed over her into the air.

Lightning and thunder crackled and roared over Vatryn and Geralt. Witcher and Dunmer, readied their blades as their eyes met the river. Síle's magic shocked the monster from its rest, its tentacles whirled out from under.

Vatryn looked on in awe as the kayran's claws stampeded out of the water. His dumbfounded look could barely keep up with his eyes as the monster towered over him and Geralt. Its maw pried opened in all its glory, several sets of teeth in a circle, and roared forcefully as streams of acid ejected.

A grin formed across Vatryn's mouth. "This'll be fun," he said before the kayran's tentacles slammed down onto them.

The two rolled away in opposite directions. Their agility came into play as the kayran repeated its attacks. Swipe left to right, up and down with not a moment to breathe.

"Yrden! Trap it with the Yrden!" Síle yelled.

"You come down and trap it!" Geralt yelled, narrowly serving his head to avoid a tentacle.

Dodging continued as the kayran started flinging rocks and wood. Even increasing their speed, the two warriors could barely keep up.

This is getting annoying, Vatryn thought.

With the next swing of a tentacle, he narrowed his perception. Time braked in his mind. The kayran's relentless speed prevented Geralt from placing his trap magic. Yet peering over to the right, a broken mast hung precariously over the kayran.

"Vatryn," Geralt commanded, grunting.

"I got this," Vatryn said.

Vatryn's legs pressed down and launched. Geralt increased his speed too. The kayran was unable to swipe now at both simultaneously. Vatryn slid under a tentacle, grasping Trueflame overhead. In that brief second, Geralt could not believe it as Vatryn's blade slice through the tentacle with ease.

The kayran screeched from the searing pain. It wildly flung its appendages, furiously spinning at Vatryn and crumbling structures around. A perfect distraction for Geralt as he knelt down, imprinting Yrden into the ground.

But Vatryn had a hard-no, fun time with the kayran. Rapidly ascending the broken mast, piece by piece felling from each tentacle. "That's right, keep following me scuttlehead," Vatryn said, standing tall on the mast.

In a single strike, the kayran collapsed the mast onto itself as Vatryn jumped at the last second. The razor-sharp wood pierced into the monster. Blood out its head, and invited a roar. Through its wailing of pain, one of its tentacles activated Geralt's Yrden and trapping it to the ground. Its attention was stolen from the Dunmer flying towards its back.

Vatryn crashed on top, his blade sinking deep into its carapace. And as he grinned at his success, his eyes widened with sudden realization. A tentacle grabbed hold of Vatryn's legs, pulling him off. Tighter and Tighter, his grip did not waver. Trueflame's burning fires cleaved into the kayran the more it pulled Vatryn.

Geralt meanwhile managed to lop off the trapped tentacle. His breath grew shallow as a tentacle whacked him over the side. The Witcher, flat on his back, disoriented as the kayran waved around. Clearly having enough, the kayran began backing up towards the water and willing to take Vatryn with it.

"Going somewhere, darling?" Síle yelled as her magic overcast from the river into a wall of lightning. Streams of lightning coursed throughout the kayran's body and releasing Vatryn.

"Ow!" Vatryn said, rubbing his head. "You're lucky I have some resistance to magic."

"Vatryn, watch out!" Geralt said as he dodged an attack.

Vatryn could only look in surprise as it the kayran's large tentacle smacked into his face. The spiked appendage ripped across his face, whisking the Dunmer into the bridge.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at the kayran, another attack came from a swipe at him. At the last second, Geralt grabbed hold of it. The tentacle swerved and jerked the witcher around. But he couldn't let that happen, the kayran must die. His repeated stabs to his ride seemed to no avail, bringing Geralt higher into the sky.

High into the air, Geralt and even Síle could only stare star-eyed at what came before them. Vatryn launched high above. Geralt could have sworn Vatryn winked back at him. Fury befell the kayran as Vatryn landed sword first. Its head exploded in fire, circling in motions with its whole body.

"Vatryn!" Geralt yelled as the tentacle threw him high into the air. An item lobbed from him into Vatryn's hand.

A bomb, Vatryn internally exclaimed.

Pulling out Trueflame, Vatryn ignited the bomb. Sparks flew around as it fell towards the large opening Vatryn made. Blood and guts exploded up, pieces of the kayran plopped all around. A cathartic sigh of relief came for Vatryn's lungs as the Dunmer launched back towards Geralt.

Gravity had other plans for Geralt, dragging him back to the earth. But it was not solid ground he felt but shiny metal and Dunmer beneath him. The two groaned in pain, still on top of one another as Síle floated down.

"Are you two all right?" Síle asked.

"Fine," Geralt replied, groaning throughout and rolled off Vatryn.

"Other than a fat man falling on me, I'm pretty well too," Vatryn said.

"Your face," Síle exclaimed.

Geralt looked to where she was pointing, the gruesome image on Vatryn. A cheek cut across, narrowly missing both eyes and ears. The wound was deep enough that it cut through the muscle.

"It's fine," Vatryn said, waving the two off and unconcerned of his injuries.

Before either could object, Vatryn partook of a healing potion. It's healing properties immediately took effect, mending and growing back the lost tissue, muscle, blood, and skin. Within seconds, his face was back to normal; save for a tiny scar on his cheek.

"H-how?" Síle asked.

"Simple, magic," Vatryn said as he stood up. "Or to be more precise, the high concentration of magic in my world makes my items more powerful than if they were from here."

"So you really are from another world," Síle said.

"No," Vatryn said sarcastically, "How did you figure out? My witty banter or my charming physique."

"Sarcasm," Síle said, crossing her arms, "It seems elves are the same, no matter where they're from."

"Oh but I'm pretty fun once you get to know me. How about I buy you two drinks on me? Of course, you'll have to sit on moss but I think it'll work," Vatryn said.

"Can we please get back to the matter at hand?" Geralt interjected, silencing the elf. "Síle, why was the kayran so big?"

Síle looked over the kayran's corpse, evaluating it. "It was mutated… magically induced. I'm sure you knew beforehand?"

"Triss did say it was mutated," Geralt said.

"So what, should we go look for some mage in a tower then?" Vatryn asked.

"It wouldn't matter," Síle said, "The beast is dead and I must go. I'm going to collect the most valuable ingredients now. Such a shame most will go to waste but forgive me, time is of the essence."

"Farewell, then," Geralt said as Vatryn nodded in agreement.

"Don't forget to collect the reward," Síle said.

"Oh, I won't," Geralt said as a smile crept at the sound of coin.

As Síle walked off to collect her prize, the two men climbed back up the descent.

"Well, that was interesting," Vatryn said. He took hold of Geralt, hoisting the witcher up. "First giant monster fight in the books and it went pretty well. Of course, I probably shouldn't have waited so long."

"What do you mean?" Geralt asked.

"Oh, were you not pretending to dodge slowly? I'm sorry, I thought that was the plan?"

"Okay, I get it. You're trying to be funny but now's not the time."

"Who said I was joking?" Vatryn asked, shrugging.

"You could barely keep up with the kayran and during some brief moments, I could hear your heart racing," Geralt pointed.

"I was excited. I wanted to see if the kayran could actually do something other than just swinging its tentacles around."

"Like being thrown into stone?"

"Ok, I will admit that did not go as I expected. I thought Trueflame would be enough but its organs were deep in there and I did not feel like going inside it."

"And jumping high into the sky?" Geralt asked.

"A potion that allows me to jump several feet into the air," Vatryn said, dangling a purple bottle in his hand. "Unfortunately, I only had two so…"

"So why didn't you use it sooner?"

Vatryn's eyes looked away from Geralt and he turned away. "I...um… I want to wait to see how things would play out."

Geralt cursed under his breath, walking away from Vatryn.

"Hey, it worked out in the end," Vatryn said, running up behind. "We killed the kayran and now you can collect your rewards."

"Thanks for reminding me," Geralt said, "Tell me where Letho is."

"A deal's a deal. Letho tends to hang out by some elven statues that have roses around them. Here," Vatryn said, handing Geralt a piece of paper. "I drew a route that you can take without getting the Scoia'tael's attention."

"Thanks," Geralt said.

"One more thing, I would advise against bringing those Blue Stripes of yours."

"Why?"

"The passage is pretty narrow and is too easy to make a lot of noise. At best, you could probably take two without getting noticed. Three, you could do with, but a lot more can go wrong."

"Right… well, thanks then," Geralt said.

"My pleasure, Geralt, and hey," Vatryn said. He extended his hand to Geralt. "Maybe we can work again someday."

Geralt looked up and down over Vatryn. This dark elf wasn't as bad as he thought. Not only that but he's been of greater help than anyone else in Flotsam has been so far.

"Maybe," Geralt said as grabbed back Vatryn's hand. "Depends. How much you're paying?"

* * *

**_Thoughts? Criticism?_**


	9. Crossroads

**Chapter 9: Crossroads**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scroll Series or the Witcher Series**

**The Elder Scrolls belongs to Bethesda and the Witcher belongs to Andrzej Sapkowski.**

**A/N: Chapter contains original and paraphrased dialogue from the Witcher 2**

* * *

Waddling, squishing, crunching beneath feet. Boots caked in mud and roots as Geralt and Triss trodded through the narrow path spelled out by Vatryn. While either could do without the sneaking and muck, evident as Triss furrowed her brow, no flying arrows or even roars of monsters bothered them. Only the patter of rain to accompany them on their silent journey before eventually reaching their destination.

"Ugh… I think we've arrived," Triss said, washing away the dirt from her with a hand wave. "The menhir here is clearly elven and the garden must be at the top of this path."

"Gardens in the middle of the forests… Those elves really liked to complicate things," Geralt replied, stretching his arm. "We need to be careful. I can smell herbs from here, the kind witchers use."

"Should we try flanking Letho then?"

"Hmm…" Geralt bemused, peering around the area. "Too risky. He might know we're here already and could be expecting us. We should take it slow, see if he's still there. If he is, then I'll confront him while you support me with your spells."

"All right then. Lead the way," Triss said.

Geralt nodded and two began their ascent to the top. Climbing over the last little cliff, the two slightly crouched their legs. Geralt's blade swooshed from his back, his hand gripping the hilt as he and Triss sneaked towards the garden.

Silence bequeathed them, their breaths shuddered as they approached an arch. With a peek to the side, Geralt's eyes caught naught but birds and bugs flying around the garden. No one else there but the two.

"He's not here," Geralt said, air ejecting out his nostrils.

"Are you certain?" Triss asked.

"I am," Geralt said as he walked through the arch. "See. If Letho was here, he'd probably have attacked me by now. But he was here… look."

Geralt pointed down to a footprint. It was barely imprinted to the ground and was the only one around.

"Seems our kingslayer isn't as good covering his tracks," Triss said.

"Or he was in a hurry," Geralt said, "Still, it's not enough to track him by. We should wait here and lay an ambush for him. What do you think?... Triss?" he asked as no response came from her.

"Hmm, oh yes. We should," Triss replied.

Geralt looked up to see her staring intently at the statue in the garden.

"Triss… why are you looking at the statue?"

"I'm just admiring it. Its beauty of the lovers carved from stone," Triss said. She paused and crossed her arms. "I just don't get it. How could elves go from this to being so cruel?"

"They've lost a lot… There used to be elven cities and the forests were for them to enjoy, not hide in. Humans destroyed that, put them in reservations. Iorveth and his kind are taking revenge, though not all elves are like that."

"You mean Vatryn?

"Yeah… Vatryn," Geralt said as he scratched his head.

"Did something happen between you two?" Triss asked.

"He was challenging to say the least. He's more powerful than he lets on and that worries me."

"Geralt," Triss smiled as she rested her hand on him. "I doubt he's harboring anything against us. He's been quite friendly so far and helpful in finding Letho. And what he's said about his world has been very interesting."

"I'll bet. He can use magic with just hand gestures, his potions are magic, and his weapons are magic."

"He did say his world had magic everywhere. And if it's that abundant, then magic would be respected there. Elves too I assume."

"How so?" Geralt asked.

"As you said, he's not like other elves. Maybe in his world humans, and elves managed to get along with each other," Triss surmised.

"Racial harmony, magic, and whimsical adventurers," Geralt said, raising a brow. "That's a fantasy, Triss."

"Not in Vatryn's case it seems," Triss said.

* * *

A loud yawn belled between leaves, its source soundly resting over a slab of stone. For that was all Vatryn could for now as he stared up at the ceiling, waiting for Geralt to finish off Letho.

Suddenly, a branch crunched beneath him. With a quick swerve, he leaped up from his slab. Dagger in hand, Vatryn readied as a shadow peeked through the cave entrance. With a quick jab, the elf's immense strength grabbed the figure by the neck and rested his dagger against.

"What the… what are you doing here? It's bad manners not to announce yourself first," Vatryn commanded as the figure he held was a Scoia'tael.

"I… gggrh," the scout pointed to his neck and prompting Vatryn to let go. "How… how are you so strong?"

"Training, adventuring, and a bit of magic," Vatryn replied, twirling his dagger back into his sheath. "What are you doing here anyway?"

The scout cleared his throat. "I'm to tell you that the preparations for our departure are to begin soon. Iorveth is finalizing our plans now and wants your assistance."

"No reward for killing the kayran," Vatryn questioned with a smirk.

"No," the scout stated in a monotonous voice.

"Rudeness and banditry. It's no wonder you're so popular around here," Vatryn said as he raised his hands. "Is that all you needed to tell me?"

"Other than dealing with a vatt'ghern, yes," the scout said.

"Yes, well I hope you-" Vatryn paused, his head lifted high up.

_Wait, a minute. Vatt'ghern? _Vatryn thought_ That's what Iorveth said a-_

"Hold on a minute there," Vatryn said, "Did… did you say vatt'ghern? As in a witcher?"

"I did," the scout said, "We saw the white-haired one with his sorceress near Letho's spot. We're going to dispose of them."

"Say… why don't I come with you?" Vatryn asked.

"Why?" the scout asked, tilting his head.

"To protect you, of course," Vatryn said, strapping his blade and belts as he spoke. "These witchers are a tough bunch I've heard. And last I recall, that witcher managed to defeat quite a few of your numbers. That's why you'll need someone to match him in power."

"You can defeat a witcher?"

"Sure can. Didn't you hear about the time I defeated a demi-god?"

"Hah, demigod. The others said you were crazy," the scout muttered as Vatryn walked past. " As I heard, you were barely able to dodge a barrage of our arrows. How could you defeat a demigod?"

Vatryn smiled back. His eyes took the scout aback, it was as if the scout knew the power Vatryn held.

"Just watch," Vatryn replied before leaping out from his cave.

* * *

"Okay, that's the last of them," Geralt said. His hand slightly padded over some dirt with care.

Geralt's gaze paused as he looked over the traps he and Triss set. Hidden beneath the dirt were pressure plates, which once stepped on will trap said activator's leg. And just for extra measure, Triss managed to draw on some glyphs right after the traps. After activating the traps, the activator would them stumble into a fiery pain.

"Now all we have to do is wait," Geralt said. A glimpse of light shone into his eye and Geralt turned his attention to a small rose, bright pink in color.

"My, my, Geralt. Flowers at this time," Triss said as she sauntered over.

"Triss…" Geralt said with a bit of trepidation.

Triss raised a brow at his words before taking a closer inspection of the rose.

"Geralt… that's a rose of remembrance," Triss said.

"A what?" Geralt asked.

"Cymoril's rose of remembrance. An elf from Flotsam, Cedric, told me a bit about them. Legend has it they wilt unless nourished with blood and if they're sold… But give it to someone you love, and it'll live forever."

"Well, this is awkward…"

"Oh please, Geralt. It's just some stupid elven story," Triss said, "Still the rose is useful to have. In fact, I could use it to help you restore your memories."

"How?" Geralt asked, his eyes still entrance on the petals.

"Well, first I'll have to prepare a spell. It would take me a few days and I'd need to…" Triss paused. A gut feeling turned her to see Geralt completely entranced at the rose. His pupils swirled a deep blue as he continued to stare off.

"Geralt… Geralt," Triss pleaded, shaking the witcher repeatedly by the shoulder.

Yet it did not do anything to break Geralt from his trance until eventually, he broke free himself. His eyes rapidly blinked in place and for a second, his body jerked back before he regained his footing.

"Geralt… are you alright?" Triss asked.

"I… the rose it… it did something to me," Geralt said as beads of sweat dripped down off his forehead. "I remember more now, Triss. What happened after the massacre in Rivia; Ciri took me and Yennefer to the Isle of Avallach. Then the Wild Hunt kidnapped Yennefer and I pursued them."

"But…"

"Triss please, this is important," Geralt said as he took in a breath. "When the witchers found me barely alive a half year ago near Kaer Morhen, I was fleeing the wraiths of the Hunt. They continued to pursue me - in the Outskirts, then in Vizima when I killed the Grand Master. It can't be a coincidence."

"I agree. More so because the rose was not meant to do that or at least I'm certain," Triss said, "Let me see it."

Grabbing hold of its thorny stem, Triss held the rose precariously in her hand. As she inspected over its bright petals, she noticed something strange within the rose.

"This is…" she said.

The air suddenly cut sharply between the two. Not even Geralt could react in time, his head swerving to the anomaly just a second later.

"Wh-what was that?" Triss asked.

She turned her attention to where Geralt's was. A dagger lodged clean into one of the stone slabs. Not so much pierced but embedded a crack. Upon pulling it out, Geralt felt the blade chip and break into two.

Geralt rotated the blade around. "Good throw."

"Is it Letho?" Triss asked as she crouched narrowly to the ground.

"No, it can't be," Geralt replied, waving her back up. "Not even a witcher could throw this fast or even break stone this much with steel. A monster might but I've never seen throw this kind of dagger. And I've only…"

Geralt's thoughts flashed back to an image of Vatryn. The multiple daggers across his chest. His memory flashing to the dark elf almost punching a drowner's head clean off.

"So it's up here then?" Vatryn's voice alerting the two to his presence.

"He set us up," Geralt said as he threw away the dagger. "_Quick, over here," _he whispered.

Triss followed along to a small ledge overlooking the garden. Standing below, Geralt began to hoist himself up when the ground beneath them suddenly collapsed.

* * *

"I hear something, quickly," a Scoia'tael said. Five more Scoia'tael and a dwarf hurried along the path.

Vatryn followed in tow, climbing as quickly as he could. He stopped dead in front of them, blocking the arch. "Hold on a minute. You shouldn't go charging off like that. They might have set traps."

"Out of the way, Dunmer," a warrior said, shoving Vatryn aside. "I know traps when I see one."

Vatryn sighed, rubbing his temple as the warrior passed through. "_And cue…_" he whispered as the warrior hallowed in pain. Vatryn leered his eyes towards the arch, the rest of the unit pouring in.

The warrior's body was burned all over. His leg mangled in the trap, bloodied and cracked. Vatryn unceremoniously took a healing potion, shooing the unit aside.

"Mind getting his leg out of that thing?" Vatryn asked.

The potion began its work on the warrior, mending his leg and wounds. The warrior's body was still showed a hint of black but Vatryn could hear the sound of his heart beating.

"Now, what did we all learn today?" Vatryn asked. The unit looked away from him, turning to observe the garden as the dwarf still looked over the warrior. "Always listen to Vatryn. For example."

Vatryn continued with his lesson as he walked over a glyph. A cone of fire burst out of the ground, engulfing the Dunmer in its blaze. The unit of Scoia'tael stared jaw eyed at what happened, and it only increased as they saw Vatryn. He stood there, stroking his chin while his armor simmered.

"Know your enemy, or at the very least try to guess what they're capable of," Vatryn declared. He continued on, hands-on hip as he walked into another glyph. "Since the witcher had a mage with them, I assumed she might be capable of placing magic glyphs. So it's best to watch the ground for any strange languages or shapes you come across."

Vatryn continued his tirade, setting off every trap and glyph. "Of course, none of you are naturally resistant to fire or have enchanted armor. So I'd advise against stepping on them."

"Oh really," the dwarf said, "Have any other useful tips? Like how to wipe our arses better."

"Now that you mention it…" Vatryn said.

"Enough," an archer said as he lifted the unconscious warrior. "It's clear the witcher isn't here anymore. We should get our wounded man here back to camp and warn Letho it's not safe here."

"There's no need for that."

All eyes turned toward the arch. Letho walked through, his towering figure overshadowing Iorveth walking behind.

"Letho and... Iorveth," the scout stammered, "What are you two doing here?"

"Letho asked me to come here," Iorveth said, "Something we must discuss with Vatryn."

"About what?" Vatryn shrugged.

"About you," Letho said, "How'd you manage to kill the monster?"

"By myself of course," Vatryn replied.

"Really? Then why were you talking with Geralt then?" Letho questioned.

"Geralt?" Vatryn asked, furrowing his brow.

"Letho here claims you're collaborating with the witcher," Iorveth said. He leaned in. "And more importantly that you led them here."

"Why would I do that?" Vatryn asked.

"Hmm, you shouldn't lie Vatryn," Letho said. He walked towards the elf, tapping his fingers together. "I saw you hand out a note to Geralt. You happen to kill a kayran even though you didn't know how to. And now, you happen to be here when there are witcher traps clearly set by Geralt."

"I…um... well you see..." Vatryn stuttered in trying for words.

But as he began to glance away, a flash of blue entered his eyes. A shimmering rose on the ground, its petals still full of color. The Scoia'tael shared confused looks as Vatryn walked over to the rose without a word.

"Vatryn, what are you doing? We're not done here," Iorveth said.

The petals flashed another light of blue to Vatryn, his eyes fixated on inspecting it. "Sorry but this rose caught my eye. There's something strange about but its-"

Upon turning around, Vatryn widened in surprise. The entire unit, Letho, and Iorveth were all completely frozen in place. They weren't covered in ice or even paralyzed but just standing in place like statues.

"I-Ioverth? Letho?" Vatryn questioned. They continued to stand in place, Iorveth with a finger pointed out and Letho with a cross look.

All around there was no sound, no movement. Vatryn could only see a world drenched in blue light with small particles flowing around. The rose he held though still had its pink glow, it and Vatryn the only ones unaffected by the strange light.

"What the fuck is going on?" Vatryn muttered to the rose, only for it repeatedly to flash blue lights.

"Be at ease, Nerevar."

Vatryn jumped in surprise to a voice behind. The air in front of him warped, the dust particles formed into the shape of a hooded figure in yellow robes.

Vatyrn wielded out his sword. "W-what's going on? Who are you?"

"My name is not important. As for what I've done, I've given us a chance to speak privately. So that I may bring a message from the Psijic Order."

"T-the Psijics?" Vatryn questioned, releasing his sword. He regained himself, shaking his head. "I remember, Sotha Sil taught some of your order a long time ago, right? And I assume you've decided to come to take me home."

"Quite the opposite. A chain of events has begun to spiral and you will be called to face its aftermath. In order for that future to be realized, you must stay here for now," the monk said.

"Fuck that, I'm not staying here. And I'm definitely not going to be part of another doom driven destiny. I fulfilled my prophecy, okay, it's done. All I want to do now is go on some fun adventures and live a little for myself."

"You may think that if you wish but it will not change what must be done. The entirety of Mundus, of the Aurbis, is at stake."

"Then why don't you do anything about it?" Vatryn pointed.

The monk shook his head. "Understand that the Psijic Order does not typically… intervene directly in events. And even so, we are not completely certain we can achieve our prediction on our own."

"Then why do you need me then? Don't the Aedra have other heroes you can call on."

"None that are like you. It's not just your power Nerevar. Your tenacious spirit and your ability to inspire loyalty are greater than any other mortal on Nirn. But still, it is not enough for you to succeed."

"That still doesn't-"

"I'm sorry but I cannot answer anymore," the monk interrupted, "This conversation is requiring a great deal of effort on me and my colleagues. But I leave with you these things."

The rose materialized into Vatryn's hands, its color changed to blue.

"Your magic has become unstable since teleporting to this world," the monk explained, "In order to correct it, we have modified this rose's properties. Give it to a mage you trust and it will link them to you, calibrating yourself to this world."

"I don't know any mage to trust here," Vatryn said, balling his fist.

"Find one," the monk said. He then lifted his arm up, launching a ball of red magicka towards the frozen Letho. "I must go now. We will continue to watch you and guide you when necessary. Remember, for you to succeed, you must overcome your greatest fear. Farewell."

"No, no, no, wait," Vatryn reached out as the monk's body disassembled. "I still have more questions."

Vatryn's words were to no avail as the Psijic monk disappeared from view along with the blue light surrounding him. The world immediately started again, rushing water and singing birds sounded back.

Suddenly, the swift sound of a gurgle turned Vatryn to see Letho's blade slice across two Scoia'taels necks. Yet in that brief moment, Vatryn saw the witcher's eyes widen as his blade quenched in elf blood.

"What are-" Iorveth said before falling to the ground, a strike from Letho reeling him unconscious.

The rest of the unit responded, drawing their bows and charging towards Letho. Bolts flew straight into their chests, their heads punctured. A charge of screams alerted to members of the Blue Stripes and Flotsam guards running in led by Roche.

Scoia'tael jumped out from the trees to engage the Blue Stripes. In the spur of the clash, Vatryn dashed over to Letho with a kick. The witcher crashed into a wall. The ground shuddered beneath, cracking a hole for Letho fall in.

_Now to deal with them, _Vatryn thought as he swung to face the attackers.

"You," Roche said, mace in hand as he readied to attack.

Vatyrn responded back but then stopped. He could not harm Roche, he wanted to no part of this squabble. But he had to defend himself. Vatryn raised his hands and firmly planted his feet.

The mace swung from Roche's hand, fast as a Redguard swordsmen. But a slow one at that. His momentum gave way, allowing Vatyrn to push the mace aside. A headbutt to the head reeled Roche back.

However, Roche was not finished. The draw of a dagger slipped into his hand. He would end this with a stab to the chin.

Blocking with his palm, Vatryn took control of Roche's arm. With the dagger pinned, Vatryn grappled him. Roche struggled in vain. His pipes then winded from Vatryn's knee. Just how strong was this elf he thought.

"Alright, that's enough now! Stand down!" Vatryn hollered. His voice radiated in the garden, gaining the attention of all as they briefly stopped.

Roche was on his knees, a strand of blood over his mouth. The dagger in Vatryn's hand etching close to his throat.

"Don't listen, keep-argh," Roche said before Vatryn grabbed him by the nape and pushed him further to the ground.

"I wouldn't listen to him if I were you. Back off!" Vatryn declared. "You there, dwarf. Take Iorveth with you. The rest of you, we're leaving."

"No, we have them right where we wanted," a warrior protested, "We can finish off these d'hoine and-"

"I said, we're leaving," Vatryn said, his words striking true into the Scoia'taels' hearts. It was hard for the Scoia'tael to fathom the one with a cheery attitude to suddenly intimidate everyone around.

They relented, retreating away with their leader. Vatryn slowly backed up, shielding himself with Roche to protect against the arbalists.

"_Cough. _What now? As soon as you let me go, my men will shoot you full of bolts," Roche replied.

"Don't shoot when you can't see," Vatryn said.

In a split second, he tossed a small object against Roche's head. Smoke erupted amongst the Blue Stripes, coughing and wheezing as their lungs recoiled with irritation. Leaving nothing but themselves.

_**Minutes earlier**_

Their backs fell numb against their landing. Triss and Geralt could only catch a glimpse up into the small hole of light above. By regaining their bearings, they could fully glimpse their surroundings.

A beautiful bath placed before them, the intricate design of the Aen Seidhe reflected into the pool. Overgrowth of vines covered the walls, perhaps hiding what was once an even more beautiful complex.

"Oh, my," Triss exclaimed, "This is incredible. Just look at this makes any human construction pale in comparison."

"Shh," Geralt interrupted, "Hear that?"

Triss shook her head, her normal hearing not suited to far off sound.

"_It's Vatryn,_" Geralt whispered, leaning close to the wall. "_He's with some Scoia'tael. One of them activated the traps and…_"

"_What? What is it?_"

"_He just… walked over your traps and it sounds like it didn't do anything to him? He says he's immune to fire but magic fire is different from regular fire right?"_

"_In a way yes and…_" Triss was going to explain as Geralt covered her mouth.

Geralt pointed up towards the hole and spelled out words with his fingers.

K-I-N-G-S-L-A-Y-E-R.

Geralt decided to take a closer look, slowly ascending back up. Hidden through vines, he could see Letho accompanied by Iorveth. He was having a conversation with Letho, about the Kayran. Scanning the rest of the area, there were only a few Scoia'tael in the garden.

_There could be more of them that are hiding, _Geralt thought, _That and I don't know if Vatryn would side with me if I attacked now._

Geralt would have to be adamant to wait again and his back sulked to hide. Upon landing, he felt something tingle. His midsection then numbed a bit but weirdly didn't at the same time.

Triss stumbled a bit back. She held her head with care as if to subside some pain. She turned towards Geralt, her lips pursed open for words. They didn't, for the roof above them collapsed with a body in tow.

Triss's body on the floor, pinned underneath Letho. Now was Geralt's chance as he tackled Letho off Triss. Their tussle landed them in the bath, their training called as both surfaced with a sword in hand.

"Not today, Geralt," Letho said.

He was right to think so. His strength supporting him, keeling Geralt over. Bubbles of Geralt's air gasped for air.

_Not like this, _Letho thought as he grabbed and launched Geralt through a weak wall.

In this new room, Geralt rolled himself up. His sword prepared as Letho jumped in across. Their stances battled, both trying to fight an angle to attack.

"Let's see if you still know how to fight," Letho said.

Their techniques matched in ferocity. Quen to block while they parried and dodged. Steel clashing, pushing to gain an advantage. Geralt would try a slice, dodged by Letho. Letho countered with a thrust, but Geralt parried it to the side. And on the pattern would repeat.

But one would fail soon. Despite them being witchers- despite their skill, they were still humans. That shortcoming would come to Geralt's aid, knocking Letho's blade away. Kicked to the ground, Letho blasted Geralt away with Aard.

His breath short, Geralt looked to see Letho pull out a bottle. Letho shot off a grin and downed its contents. In a blink, Letho seemingly teleported several feet. Geralt's mind was unable to react to Letho's punches. Each shot made Geralt weaker, Letho's immense strength bruising and bloodying his body. There was nothing he could do as the final attack slammed him into a wall.

Blood clouded Geralt's eyes and he could only make out a sword near his face.

"Almost Geralt. Almost," Letho said, "Too bad Vatryn's feather potion of his worked."

"What are you waiting for?" Geralt slurred.

"I'm not going to kill you Geralt. You were one of us. You saved us. Now we're even," Letho said. Something caught his attention as he backed away. "Your witch is good with magic. Think she'll be able to teleport me to Aedirn? If she behaves, I won't harm her."

"I'll- I'll f-find y-y-you."

"See you in Aedirn then," Letho bided.

Geralt's fatigue was drained, his chest wincing from any movement. He could just breath in and out, trying to steal in the air for his lungs. They were slower from each cycle though and his body told him of what he needed. Geralt tried to resist, fight back the urge but to no avail; his eyes shuddering, inviting him to slumber.

The slumber did not seem to last long to Geralt. His eyes shot open to a wooden ceiling above. His body jolted up to the view of himself in bed with nothing but his trousers. Bandages were wrapped around his body from chest to head.

He would have thought himself dreaming until his innards suddenly flared up. A door swung open, Dandelion hurrying to Geralt's side.

"Geralt, you're awake!" Dandelion exclaimed.

"Dandelion! Sw-swallow," Geralt pointed to a pouch laid on a chair.

"Right," Dandelion said.

The potion worked over Geralt's body as the toxicity in his body rose to subside the pain. He gave a quick thanks to Dandelion before the door opened to Roche.

"You're finally awake," Roche said, "How are your injuries holding up?"

"Mmh. Give me an hour or so and I'll be fine," Geralt replied.

"Good because a lot has happened. Where's the kingslayer?"

"Gone," Geralt said, rubbing his cheek. "He put quite a number on me."

"He's that powerful?" Dandelion asked.

Geralt shook his head. "I can thank Vatryn for that. He gave Letho a potion that increased his speed to the point where I couldn't react to any of his attacks."

"And Triss?" Dandelion asked.

"She's gone too. Letho took her, said he'd force her to teleport to Aedirn," Geralt said.

"Damn," Roche said as he slammed a fist against the door, "he's made a mockery of us! If that's how he wants to play, I'll make him regret it."

"How did you find me by the way?" Geralt asked.

"I had Ves keep an eye on you. She reported that you knew of the kingslayer's whereabouts so I had Loredo's men provide us with backup. But their crossbowmen were too twitchy and fired too early. Luckily, most of my men managed to escape with a few wounds," Roche said.

"Iorveth just let you go?" Geralt asked.

"Our dear Commander can actually thank Vatryn for that," Dandelion said, "He managed to stop the fighting and forced the Scoia'tael to retreat."

"So that bandage Roche…" Geralt pondered.

"A mark from Vatryn," Roche said, crossing his arms. "I have to admit the bastard was fast, faster than you even. And he didn't even draw his weapon."

"You shouldn't sound disappointed," Geralt replied, hoisting himself upright on the bed. "His sword was able to cut through the kayran's carapace like nothing."

"And if you believe his stories, then you definitely don't want him as your enemy," Dandelion said. He then stroked his chin. "Though he has a strange choice of allies."

"We can focus on this Vatryn later. The Scoia'tael too," Roche said as he turned to Geralt. "We have another problem."

"Besides the massacre that's happening right now?" Dandelion snided.

"Massacre?" Geralt questioned.

"When I said my men mostly escaped, the same wasn't true for Loredo's men," Roche explained, "When the news hit Flotsam that the elves killed a dozen soldiers, two of the soldiers' fathers decided to take it out on an elven girl. You can imagine what happened next."

"Yeah I… I guess can," Geralt said as the memories of Rivia trickled back to him. "So what's the other bad news?"

Roche made a gesture to Dandelion, signaling the bard to leave. He nodded a goodbye to Geralt as the witcher sat confused.

"Don't worry nothing bad is happening to him," Roche said as he sat across from Geralt. "I'm only telling this to you, that's all. Loredo has a deal with Kaedwen. There's a merchant living at his compound, who's actually an agent of Henselt. For a pouch of gold, the good commandant promised to support Kaedweni troops in the event of a conflict."

"So what now?" Geralt shrugged.

"I want that spy, to squeeze him for information. And I've sentenced Commandant Loredo to death."

"Roche, we don't have time for this. We have to sail for Aedirn."

"I'm not leaving until I deal with Loredo. The spy may know something about the kingslayer's accomplices. I wouldn't be surprised if Henselt of Kaedwen was behind all this."

Geralt crossed his arms in discontent. His mind raced on what to do but it all came to the same conclusion. In order to save Triss and grab the Kingslayer, he'd need a boat and Roche was the only one he could use.

Geralt sighed. "Fine then. Let's just make it quick.

"Good. You best prepare then. We're executing our plan tonight," Roche said, leaving Geralt alone again.

He palmed over his face. The turn of recent events slammed into his face and now he had someone to save.

_Just my luck isn't it._

* * *

**_Thoughts? Any criticisms?_**

**I will answer though before you complain. A feather potion decreases the user's carry weight, meaning the items on you weigh almost nothing. And you are much faster if you're not carrying so much. Plus Vatryn is a master alchemist, so he put in a little speed with it too.**


	10. Simultaneous Paths

**Chapter 10: Simultaneous Paths**

Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scroll Series or the Witcher Series

The Elder Scrolls belongs to Bethesda and the Witcher belongs to Andrzej Sapkowski.

**A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone. I am sorry for the long wait but I've been just so busy with my other story. But don't worry, my co-author will focus on that for now so don't despair as the next chapter will come soon. Probably a week from today, most likely a week and a half. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and have a Happy New Year!**

* * *

"Time to wake up," Vatryn said aloud, kicking off an unconscious Iorveth down on to the ground.

After administering a healing potion to Iorveth and staying asleep for nearly an hour, Vatryn thought it prudent to wake him. Unfortunately, the other Scoia'tael didn't seem to think so as they immediately raised their weapons. A dwarf even rested his axe's head against Vatryn's neck, to which took even Vatryn by surprise.

"_Arghh..._bloody hell!" Iorveth screamed, tightly holding his head.

"Iorveth, are you alright?" one of the Scoia'tael asked, helping to lift him to his feet.

"Just what the fuck do you think you were doing, gray one?" the dwarf with the axe asked.

"Waking him up as you can see," Vatryn replied, slowly pushing the axe with a finger. "Granted I was a bit rough but he seems fine."

"Your elves must have a funny way of defining what's fine then, huh? " Iorveth asked, rubbing his temple. He then gestured for the others to lower their weapons. "What happened?"

"Well-"

"Not…you Vatryn," Iorveth said, stressing his words out slowly. "Dichar, what happened?"

"I don't know Iorveth. One minute we were discussing with Letho then all of a sudden Roche's men ambushed us. You were knocked out during the whole thing," Dichar said.

"I saw what happened to you Iorveth," Ardi replied, raising his hand. "Letho punched you right in your face then he tackled that other witcher down some hole. But then Vatryn here caught Roche and made us retreat."

"You let him go?" Iorveth questioned.

"Of course, there was no need to escalate things further," Vatryn replied, pushing aside other Scoia'tael as he approached. "Besides I know you wanted Roche to yourself and not only that I saved your life. This is where you say 'Thank you, Vatryn'. 'Your welcome, Iorveth'."

Iorveth snarled back, turning away when another Scoia'tael barged through the group, panting.

"I..Iorveth… its… its," he said.

"Calm down, Ele'yas. Breathe," Iorveth said.

Ele'yad patted his chest. "Our brothers and sisters on the barge. They're taking them to Drakenborg. Tonight."

"Already?" Iorveth asked. "Dammit! Alright then, Ele'yas get the unit ready to march. Dichar, Ardi, stay here. The rest of you move out."

Quickly they ran on his command, a dumbfounded Vatryn approached. "Now hold on a minute… don't tell me you're planning an assault on Flotsam?"

"I'd be glad to put all those dh'oine to death but they're not what we're after," Iorveth said, "Letho has betrayed me and I need to inform of his betrayal to our fellow Scoia'tael in Aedirn."

"So now you're enacting your side of our bargain?" Vatryn questioned, crossing his arms. Iorveth gave a quick glance to him and Vatryn sighed back. "What better time than now, huh? So with the kayran out of the way, I take it you have a plan."

"I do but with Letho out of the picture, you'll need to make up for his part. You, Dichar, and Ardi will attack from the harbor and take control of the prison barge. I'll sail downriver with the rest of my unit. Most of the guards should still be at the trading post so you shouldn't have to get through that many."

"And you plan to do this in the middle of the day?" Vatryn questioned, raising his voice. "Not only are you taking advantage of a massacre but you're going to make it even worse for all the non-humans there."

Iorveth approached close. "The elves and dwarves that live in Flotsam are already dead, they were the moment they decided to become one of them. And why do you care what happens to them?" he said, shaking his head.

"I may not be of your world but I'm not going to contribute to the downfall of others simply because you want to go somewhere by boat. No, if we're doing this, then we do this at night with fewer witnesses."

"You're not in charge here, Vatryn and more importantly, an assault at night will be much harder with the guards around," Iorveth said.

"We're not doing the same plan at nighttime," Vatryn said, shaking his head. He then pointed to himself. "Send me, under the cover of night, to the commandant's lodging. I'll capture the commandant, force him to scream for help, and the guards will have no choice but to help. That'll draw them away from the harbor."

"That plan is even more ludicrous than mine!" Iorveth replied. "Why would all the guards even come for Loredo?"

"With a few of these," Vatryn said, taking out a small ball from his belt and tossing them in his hand. "These are really loud… um, bombs that simulate the sound of an explosion. I set these off and all the guards will think someone is committing a full out assault on the lodge. That's when your unit can come in and take control of the barge."

"You expect us to believe you can take on the entire guard by yourself?" Ardi questioned.

Vatryn looked down at him, smirking off a glance before looking back up at Iorveth. "At most, I'll just have to fight the commandant and any guards he may have inside. Once I've lured the guards over, I'll make my escape and by then, you've taken the barge."

"Brilliant plan indeed," Iorveth said, rolling his eyes. "Yet your plan involves doing the same thing we are doing. They'll know its elves attacking either way so why go through this subterfuge?"

"That's because I have something special for occasions like these," Vatryn said, wagging his finger.

He walked to his pack, rummaging through as Iorveth and the others looked on. Vatryn gasped, pulling out an item and swinging onto his head. A helm of black completely covered over his head, with two lenses covering over where the eye sockets would be.

"Now then," Vatryn said, his voice muffled to a low bass tone. "Let's get started. Right after lunch of course. I'm not doing this on an empty stomach."

He tossed his helm off unceremoniously, wading past Iorveth before stopping and glancing back. "Coming?" Vatryn asked.

Iorveth simply glared back, crossing his arms. Dichar and Ardi looked at each other and the dwarf shrugged as he proceeded to follow along with Vatryn. Iorveth, his mouth wide open for a loss of words, shook his head in disgrace and proceeded along for some lunch.

* * *

All around a table, Geralt gathered along with several others of the Blue Stripes. From across Geralt looked to Ves. She nodded in response as Roche approached the table and laid out several maps over.

"Alright, listen very carefully," Roche said, "I'm not repeating this. We have two targets, Arnolt Malliger, a Kaedweni spy, and Bernard Loredo, the commandant. I want the spy alive but Bernard is traitor and we don't let his ilk live."

He then swayed over to the map. "Now, Arnolt never leaves the residence so we'll have strike there, using Ves' unusual talents and Bernard's habits."

"Stop calling him by his first name. It really rubs me the wrong way," Geralt said.

"Whatever you wish," Roche replied, waving him off. "Now then, Loredo's house has three floors. The first two floors are full of guard patrols but the third is the lion's den. There, Loredo stores plundered valuables. It's where he sleeps, shits, and wanks off while staring at the statuette of a she-elf."

Roche held his fingers, counting them out. "Only the following are allowed to enter: Arnolt Malliger, Loredo's mother, his cousin and… whores."

"Ha. I'm not sure if I still have the frock," Ves said.

"After making his round of the trading post, Loredo always orders two ladies," Roche added, "Ves will act as one of them. Geralt, you'll enter in through the house's extension, where Ves will open a window for you. You'll have to improvise inside but you have the element of surprise and Ves can hold her own too."

"And the rest of us?" one of the Blue Stripes asked.

"Zenin and Ryckard will provide cover from vantage points," Roche said, pointing on the map. "If things get hot, lure those whoresons near the windows. I'll be in the courtyard with the rest, ready to enter in the extreme. I repeat, in the extreme. Now then, any more questions?"

"What about that elf?" Ves asked.

"What elf?" Roche asked.

"The one that beat your ass earlier," one of the Blue Stripes said and quickly receiving a punch from Ves. "Ah, I mean the one that the witcher knows about. You know, the gray one."

"Vatryn, you mean," Geralt added.

"Aye, that one."

"He's with the Scoia'tael as I recall, considering he made them flee," Roche said, slightly touching his bandage. "But he's not our priority for tonight. Unless you think otherwise, Geralt?"

The question turned all heads' attention toward Geralt. "I wouldn't know. We worked to get rid of kayran and all I can really is that he is very powerful. But from what I've gathered from our talks, he seems to want to be neutral. Like me, you could say."

"Well, if he's anything like you, let's hope that he doesn't anything stupid," Roche said.

"_You and me both,_" Geralt thought, watching on as Roche continued on for the raid.

* * *

Hours had passed since the massacre and quiet seemed to take hold once again over Flotsam. That was unless you counted the many destroyed and charred homes of the elves and dwarves that you could only really see from afar.

It wasn't nearly as bad as some of the things Vatryn has seen in life but all the same, it still filled him with rage and anger. It made it no better since there wasn't anything he could do that would stop it. A large sigh emerged out from him as he donned over his Dark Brotherhood helm and descended over Loredo's residence.

Scaling over to the top, the lenses on his mask enlarged and circled as he scanned over what looked to be a courtyard. To his right, Vatryn saw multiple guards all scrounged in one corner and patrolling in circles inside.

"_Idiots,_" Vatryn muttered under his breath as he looked around some more.

A woman caught his eye, clad in a scantily dress as she was running as fast as she could. Vatryn could faintly hear the woman breathing heavily when he heard another voice.

"Where are you? Hiding? You like playing hide and seek? I'll find you," the voice called.

He turned to see a man saying those words. Yet despite saying those words out loud, the guards from across seemed to pay him no mind. And deducing from the woman's clothing, Vatryn made a choice.

"Come on, precious - you love it when I mount you," the man said, waving his torch in front.

Taps to his shoulder lured him around to suddenly find his face rocked by a fist. His eyes engulfed by black and as they opened again, he saw upon two lenses near his face.

"_Shhh,_" Vatryn stressed, quickly covering over the man's mouth.

The man grunted in response and looked down at his body to see himself tied. With the man's mouth gagged, Vatryn released hold of him and pressed a knife to his throat.

"_I'm only going to ask this once,_" Vatryn whispered. "_If you can tell me where Loredo is, quietly that is, I might consider you letting you go. Nod your head if you understand._"

The man nodded.

"_Good. Then I'll ask you - is Loredo here?_" Vatryn asked. The man nodded again, whimpering. "_Is he on the first floor? Second floor?"_

The man shook his head back.

"_Ah… the top then,_" Vatryn said with the man eagerly nodding his head. "_Thanks,_" he said, knocking the man out with a punch.

Vatryn scanned at the top floor of the building, looking for any discernable entrance. Most of the windows were glass, the kind that didn't open save for breaking the glass and alerting everyone.

"_Maybe around then,_" he mused, spotting out a small ledge to climb.

He cracked his fingers, leaping forward as he ascended the residence's walls. Every so often, Vatyrn could feel the wall slightly creaked, its stone structure nearly sliding off. The guards from below didn't seem to notice as they looked straight at him in his nightly shade of camouflage.

Shifting around a corner, the sound of shattering glass alerted Vatryn to the top floor. A wooden window laid open, only locked in place by small beams.

"Oh… yes," the voice called out, sending shivers down Vatryn's spine.

His feet strode over the wooden floor and he leaned against the door to where the voice came from. A few twists and turns from his lockpick and the door slowly crept open. Inside laid bare the fat commandant, groping and licking a woman that was chained up against the wall.

At the moment the woman leered away from another of the man's lick, her eyes snapped upon seeing the dark-clad Dunmer. The man paused, swerving his head to the door and reacted in accord.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" he yelled, grabbing a knife and rushing forward.

Vatryn blocked the overhead strike, swinging a punch to the abdomen. The man keeled over followed over a knee to the groin. He collapsed face-first into the floor and clung to his neck as Vatyrn immediately hefted him up high. Dragging him by the neck, Vatryn grabbed a cloth from a table and proceeded to stuff the man's mouth.

Repeatedly the man squirmed left and right, only to receive another kick to the groin to scream into the cloth.

"_You have a lot of energy for someone this fat_," Vatryn bemused, pressing the man hard to the floor.

"Geralt? Is that you?" the woman asked.

Vatryn glanced to her, his eyes landing upon the chain and then back towards the squirming man.

"No," Vatryn replied, lifting the man by the collarbone and dragging him forward. "But I'm here to help all the same."

Vatryn unshackled the bonds of the woman, dredging the man against the wall and placing him in the shackles.

"What are you doing?" the woman asked as she rubbed over her wrists.

"A distraction," Vatryn said, twirling out a dagger into the man's face. "Hello there, Loredo. Be so kind as to scream for help, please."

"You better- Ahhh!" Loredo let out as the dagger sank deeply into his thigh. "Stop it you fucking- Fuuck!" he cursed, the knife slowly twisting and turning deeper into his flesh.

"That kind of works but not what I'm looking for," Vatryn said before proceeding to pull down Loredo's trousers.

"Wha- w-w-what are you doing? What the fuck are you doing?" Loredo asked, struggling around in vain.

His eyes looked on in awe as Vatryn unwielded out Trueflame, its firey embers burning hot on his skin. Vatryn ignored him, staring at the sword and holding its tip close to his face.

"Trying to find where to cut from," he said.

* * *

"Your chariot awaits, fair youth," a Blue Stripes commando said to Geralt as he approached down the alley. "The good spirits of this tower will guide and protect you. Heh-heh."

"Eh… sure," Geralt replied, proceeding towards the ladder. Inside the courtyard, his witcher eyes pierced into the dark and spotted something of interest. A finger poking out of some grass or hay.

He approached the mound of the substance, tearing off pieces of it to reveal a bound unconscious man.

"_What the hell_?" Geralt asked, looking on in confusion as he inspected over the man. "_Black tunic, gold chain. Arnolt Malliger. But who…_"

A scent caught his nose's attention, welling up into his nostrils. It was a familiar scent, however faint it was but… he couldn't quite remember it thoroughly. The smell was burnt and had a taste of… fermented grain?

"_Wait…_" Geralt exclaimed, recalling back to the previous days. "_I smelled something similar off…_ _Vatryn!_"

"FUUCCCCKK! YOU FUCKING IDIOTS! GET IN HERE!" Loredo called, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Vatryn... of course," Geralt surmised, letting out a large sigh.

Geralt noticed around from the wall guards rushing en masse to the house when his ears perked up to the sound of steel clanging.

"Attack!" Geralt could hear Roche command. Looks like it was the extreme he thought when suddenly a deafening sound exploded into his eardrums.

His ears winded out a high pitch, followed up by multiple shockwaves into the air. In the distance, the sound of bells swung in the distance and beyond Geralt could hear multiple heavy steps charging in close.

"Get inside everyone! Let's move!" Roche called out.

"Dammit! Who summoned the whole guard up here?" Geralt asked aloud, unsheathing his blade and casting Quen.

* * *

"You… y-y-you… bastard," Loredo whimpered, holding his head down low. "You chopped off my goddamn prick off you motherfucker, you- mmph."

Vatryn stuffed Loredo's face in with a cloth. "Calm down, I barely grazed it and that's more than I can say for your balls. And from what I hear about you, you probably deserve worse."

Suddenly, a sharp blade rested against Vatryn's neck, to which Vatryn responded by turning and only to be met with the blade pressing deeper. "Don't move," the woman said.

"I'm not your enemy," Vatryn replied.

"You threw all those bombs out the window and hit the town," she shot back.

"No explosions, they simply caused the loud noise."

"Why?"

"First, a distraction," Vatryn replied to then point to the door. "Second, watch out."

A guard burst in as Vatryn finished his words. Within that moment, Trueflame launched forth from Vatryn's hand.

As it pierced through the guard's chest, Vatryn followed up with a kick out the door. Another guard yelled, charging up the stairs with his halberd. Vatryn stepped back. The halberd planting itself into the wall as Vatryn tossed the stabbed man onto the other. Their bodies tumbled down the stairs, felling and collapsing a whole line of guards into a pile.

Vatryn took the halberd, shutting the door and stabbing the halberd into the wall. "Barely going to hold for now," he said as he back away.

"Hold for- what did you do?" the woman asked.

"Probably called over every guard in Flotsam over here," Vatryn shrugged.

A piercing scream then elicited over across the room and all its inhabitants turned to other room's door.

"Might want to get that Miss…"

"Ves," she muttered as she stormed off into the room.

The screams grew louder as tears were added to the mix.

"I don't know who you are but you need to stop them from getting in here," Ves called out from the other side. "This woman here is giving birth."

"Great, just great," Vatryn replied as he pointed Trueflame to the door.

Loredo spat out the cloth. "Leave that fucking she-elf whore! A piece of shit that one!"

"Shut your mouth or I'll do even more than just cut your prick off!" Vatryn said, gritting his teeth beneath his mask.

"You care about some damn piece of shit, elf-lover?" Loredo asked, straining hard against the shackles. "Fine then. Boys! Burn that tower full of those damn she-elves and their bastards! Burn-"

Blood spurted out of his mouth, seeping out the wound from a dagger planted square in his throat. Loredo twitched and squirmed, gurgling on the blood as Vatryn looked on in contempt.

Back outside through the window, Vatryn could narrowly make out towards the harbor. Men dropping left and right as figures ran across the docks towards the lightly guarded barge. But then a smoky signal blocked out his view, peering down below to the beginnings of a fire culminating on a massive tower. He could hear screams and wailing cries as it began to further engulf over the shed.

"Shit," he cursed between his teeth as the door to the room bang to bang against the halberd.

* * *

Geralt parried the thrust, slicing across his opponent's chest. Another came, flaying around his mace in a chance to hit. Geralt held his ground with Quen as it battered repeatedly to him. He let loose sidestepping the man and thrusting straight through his chest.

"Geralt!" Roche called out to him as bashed in a guard's face.

"Roche- what- the- hell- is going on?" Geralt asked, dodging against multiple slashed and countering with an Igni.

Before Roche mutter a word, men screamed from atop the stairs. A black figure jumped out from above, barreling past Geralt and Roche followed by dozens of men tumbling and crashing down the stairs. Their bodies just laid how they were.

Without recourse, Geralt followed down to where the black figure went. On the first floor stood the Blue Stripes simply staring out an open front door from behind their makeshift barricades of furniture.

"What happened?" Geralt asked.

None of them answered, continuing to stare out the door in disbelief. Thunder rumbled as rain poured outside and Geralt ran over to investigate. His eyes widened in disbelief, staring past the broken porch railing to see the black figure surrounded by guards. Ten… no thirteen of them all surrounded the black figure.

"Get off my sword!" the figure bellowed out his grovel voice to the guard who's foot stood precariously over Trueflame's handle.

"Fuck off," the man said as the entire group charged in simultaneously.

The black figure simply stood in place, griping its fists together. Spears from all angles pierced at the figure. And thus it began.

With a leap, the figure jumped high over the group. Their bodies and weapons collided into each other, some even stabbing each other. Two more came in from behind, swinging at the figure as it narrowly dodged below.

The guards swung again, the figure narrowly dodging and grabbing hold of their wrists. The figure tossed the men with such speed, even Geralt could barely keep up as the figure continued with its ferocity. Just who was this figure?

His answer began to formulate as the figure charged into the mass of soldiers, bodyslamming one of them to ground. One attempted to stab down onto the figure only to miss and welcome a kicking sweep of the legs.

The guards swung their weapons wildly at the black figure, annoyed and frustrated their inability to hit. And it showed as Geralt watched the figure repeatedly parry and block each weapon with its arms. And every time it countered; jabs to the arms, kicks to the chest, and palm strikes to the face.

The figure then grabbed one of the guard's spear and Geralt could open his mouth in a daze to what he then saw. It lifted the spear high with guard still holding on the edge, spinning in a circle. Guards toppled like dominos, their bones cracking as bodies fell on each other at high speed before the figure launched the spear away with the guard still at the end.

In the end, two guards stood with each holding their weapons out. Only one was brave enough to charge the figure from behind, yelling with all his strength. The figure tilted its head, flipping the guard on its back and deliver a swift kick to his neck.

The remaining guard no longer had the courage to fight, simply shivering and whimpering as the figure approached. Geralt could only watch, stunned by the figure's accomplishment, as it pointed down at the guard.

The guard looked to see his foot planted over the handle of Trueflame, then looking back and forth between it and the figure. He quickly stammered to the ground, gently lifting and presenting out the blade. The figure took hold of it, igniting the blade as it inspected over it. Without even looking, the figure slapped the guard across the face and knocked him out.

"Wait a minute… that blade," Geralt muttered as he broke out of his entrance. "Vatryn?"

The figure took a glance back to Geralt. More of the Blue Stripes exited out of the building and the figure ran out to the gatehouse without haste.

"Stop!" one of the commandos said, releasing out a bolt from his crossbow.

"No, wait!" Geralt said as the bolt unfurled towards the figure.

The bolt then shattered into the pieces, casually knocked away from the figure's blade before it burst out of the compound.

The commandos gave pursuit, descending out into the courtyard. Geralt circle around, stopping them in their tracks. "Don't try to follow him," he said.

"Why not?" one of them asked.

"Other than the fact he took down fifteen men with just his bare hands?" Geralt said, pointing out to the bodies of guards caked in mud.

"They're not-"

"That's enough," the voice of Roche commanded up from the porch. "There's no point in trying to follow whoever that was."

"But-"

"No buts. We're done here," Roche said, "Loredo's dead and I found our spy tied up in the gardens. Your work, I assume?"

"No, but the one who did just left," Geralt said.

"You mean that was Vatryn?" Roche asked.

"I'm positive," Geralt replied. "I recognized that blade. He's the only one that possesses it."

"I thought you said he wouldn't interfere," one of the commandos interceded.

"I never said that," Geralt said, crossing his arms. "And how was I supposed to know he'd come? Just be glad that he didn't decide to take us down like the guards."

"It's a boy, Roche. A healthy boy," Ves called out from the porch.

The group looked up to Ves swaddling a large cloth, a baby's cries emitted from it as she carried back inside.

"Why is there a baby here?" Geralt asked.

"Some elf-woman. Moril I believe her name was," Roche said, "She was in the same room where I found Loredo's body shackled over the wall. And his balls cut off."

"So Vatryn did us a favor then huh?" Geralt asked as he looked over to the gates.

"If he was then he wouldn't have called over all the guards in Flotsam here. Two of my men are dead because of his incompetence," Roche said.

"It was probably some elaborate Scoia'tael plot he was helping pull off?" one of the commandos interjected, spitting onto the ground.

"It could be," Geralt shrugged. "There's probably more to it but I'm afraid we can't ask him so…"

A wailing scream cried out from the top of the tower, alerting the group as they all rushed inside. The pregnant woman Roche told about laid bare over a bed, her baby crying fervently. Ves was kneeling down before the woman, holding out the woman's slit wrists in shock.

"Why? Why did you do it?" Ves asked.

The woman gasped and her head collapsed as she closed her eyes. One of the commandos rested his hand onto Ves' shoulder and she squiggled away. "Don't touch me," she said, shoving him back and storming off.

"I hate this town," he replied. The cries of the baby drowned out his voice and everyone looked around in silence.

"Prepare the boat," Roche said, breaking the silence with a cough. "We sail immediately."

"What about the kid?" one of the Stripes asked.

"It's not coming with us. And who in this hellhole will take in a half-breed?" Roche questioned.

A bulb lit in Geralt's head. "Seherim," he said in quick succession. "Take it to… I'll take it to Seherim in Lobinden. I'll meet you all on the boat later."

"Alright then witcher," Roche said, "Just be quick about it."

* * *

"_Damn this place_," Vatryn cursed in his mind as he ran through the streets.

His boots muddied quickly within the rain, pattering loud sounds into the ground. People emerged out from their homes, many leaped back in fear to a swift black mass flying right past.

Approaching out to the docks, a large crowd of onlookers assembled to gawk and curse out at the Scoia'tael.

"Ye gods, all those good men. Dead?!" An onlooker said.

"Somebody stop them. Where are the guards?"

"Well stop gawking at them and let's do something."

"Move!" Vatryn said, shoving aside the people.

A couple of bodies laid strewn over the docks and he watched to see the large prison barge set off. "Are you not going to save your women?!" Vatryn yelled out, only to receive no answer.

The tower was now almost completely engulfed in flames, the rains doing little enough to halt its spread. His fists balled tightly as he could, looking back between the humans staring in silence from the docks and the Scoia'tael readily leaving them behind. His sense of justice overtook hold of him, darting out into the tower.

The entire first floor of the tower was engulfed in flames, floorboards collapsing to chars od embers. His Dunmeri blood could only protect him so long as Vatryn made haste ascending up to the top floor. The ladder to the top fell apart. He could not these people to die. He bent down and leaped high up, grabbing the top floor ledge.

The woman screamed at what they saw as a black figure, receiving hand waves from Vatryn. "It's okay, it's okay. I'm here to help," he said.

Spotting out an open area of the floor, Vatryn unbound the women and children. "You're going to have to jump!" he said, raising his voice through the fiery crackles.

"That's crazy!" a woman said.

Suddenly, a large chunk of roofing collapsed inside. The women screamed and were greeted by Vatryn as he blocked the large beams with his body. "Rrggh… I said go!" he grunted out as more pieces of flaming wood fell on him.

One by one, they jumped and flopped down into the river below. Embers crashed out from the fallen debris, toppling many over when the floors began to crack and burn from underneath.

"Hurry!" Vatryn yelled, refusing to let go of the mountain of debris lest it breaks the floor.

"I- I can't," a woman cried out, whimpering onto the floor and huddling close with another.

"You can or you're going to die," Vatryn said, slowly stepping forward.

The floor immediately gave up underneath the women, falling into the fiery pit below. Vatryn could barely move in time grabbing hold of one as the others plummeted to a fiery death. As he hoisted her high up, the cracks of the roof blew open and fell more debris.

From the river, the Scoia'tael could only watch on as the tower collapsed from the fire. Charred remains laid out as the rain poured, dampening the fire away. A black ball then floated high out from the remains, a purple light enveloping it before crashing into the river.

Vatryn emerged out from below, holding onto the body of the woman. He swam towards the moving barge and Scoia'tael unfurled out ropes for the survivors to climb onto. Once onboard, Vatryn ripped off his mask and coughed out a torrent of water.

"My pack? Where's my pack?" he asked, waving over for it to be brought.

He reached down into his pack, scampering out many items before opening a salve. Vatryn tore off the woman's clothes, revealing large burn marks all over and vigorously applied as much salve over her. He slowly lifted her head up, pouring a healing potion down her throat. For a few seconds, she laid there with many others surrounding Vatryn. A quick succession of breaths came out of her mouth, letting Vatryn laugh out a small chuckle.

"Vatryn," Iorveth called from across the deck. "Your plan of yours worked and you managed to save our women. We are indebted."

Vatryn snarled, spinning up to punch Iorveth square in the jaw and scowling at him in disgust.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why didn't you try to help them?" Vatryn asked as the Scoia'tael drew out their weapons.

Iorveth dissuaded the warriors, massaging out his jaw. "We were taking this barge. Besides, the people of Flotsam did nothing but stood and watch."

"You had plenty of time to return to shore and save them," Vatryn pointed to ther tower. "But because you're so adamant about this damn mission of yours that you decided to not risk it, huh?"

"Are you done with this little rant of yours or perhaps can we keep moving?" Iorveth questioned.

Vatryn bared out his teeth, veins popping out his forehead. The others looked on in silence as the rain became lighter. Vatryn then huffed, walking off towards the end of the deck.

"Fine… forget it. Just sail the damn ship already," he replied, waving him off.

Iorveth scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Let's sail now. Let's go," he waved off.

The sails unfolded and the windy weather pushed the ship down the river. Vatryn stood over near the edge, watching on as more of the people of Flotsam gathered around the harbor. They tossed out vulgar and whatever trash they could find though it missed by many yards.

But off towards the side of one of the banks, Vatryn spotted out a familiar face staring back at him. Narrowing his vision, he could make out the shape of Geralt. The rain stopped, revealing the rest of him as he handed off a baby towards an elf with an eyepatch.

Geralt's head then turned out towards the river as if sensing a presence. Vatryn could see his cat-like eyes land upon him, turning his body to face him. The two stared blankly at each other, each second passing making the other become just a speck in distance. Before it did, Vatryn unraveled a smile towards the witcher, nodding once.

"_Good luck, witcher._"


	11. Local Politics

**Chapter 11: Local Politics**

Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scroll Series or the Witcher Series

The Elder Scrolls belong to Bethesda and the Witcher belongs to Andrzej Sapkowski.

**The chapter contains original and paraphrased dialogue from the Witcher 2**

**A/N: Happy New Year Everyone! Thanks for the wait. However sad news as classes are starting again for me so don't expect another chapter in a while. It'll be the last chapter I do for this month and then I'll be focusing back on my other fic then. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

Vatryn tossed and turned below the deck of the barge. The eerily creaks and snores of the dwarves did him no justice for a good night's sleep. His mind teetered between sleep as memories drew him in.

"For_ our goal to be realized, you must stay here Nerevar._"

He woke from his sleep, drudging back up to the top deck and resting his arms over the side. "_No way in hell am I staying here,_" Vatryn muttered as he rubbed his eyes and sighed. "_What am I supposed to learn from this place anyway? This world just hates everything that I am. If anything, my presence here will make things worse for everyone._"

Vatryn scanned over both sides of the deck, the moonlight shining bright this time of the night. Few Scoia'tael were about, many more so dozing off. But one of interest to him stood at the bow of the ship, arms crossed and looking across the water.

"Can't sleep either?" Vatryn asked as Iorveth gazed back to the approaching Dunmer.

"I slept earlier today. We'll be arriving in Vergen very early tomorrow," Iorveth said.

"I see," Vatryn replied, leaning on the side. "So… what's so special about this place to you? You said something about some queen?"

"Why do you care?"

"Color me intrigued," Vatryn shrugged. "That and I need something to take my mind off. So what's the deal with this place we're going to?"

"Vergen is a dwarven town located in Upper Aedirn," Iorveth said, resting his hands over the boat rail. "It like all the areas in Upper Aedirn are located by the Pontar."

"It's the river we're on right? What makes it special then?"

"It's a river that flows between four nations in the North."

"Farmland then," Vatryn deduced, crossing his arms.

"It's our land! Our forefathers' land. Land that is beset by hounds on all sides all wanting to carve it up like a juicy piece of meat," Iorveth corrected.

"You want to form some kind of elven kingdom then?" Vatryn asked.

"There's already an elven kingdom - Dol Blathanna," Ioverth said. "But that place is just a puppet carrying out Nilfgaardian orders. What we want is a truly free state where elves and humans can freely visit without persecution. Like in your world."

"And let me guess - this queen you talk about is the one behind this idea. A revolutionary that seeks to create a place where every race can be seen as equals," Vatryn said, receiving a nod from Iorveth. "I have to say, she sounds like a pretty reasonable person. Of course, there are two problems that I see that even if you establish your state isn't going to go away."

"And what would those problems be then since you're oh so wise?" Iorveth said, bending air quotes.

Vatryn sighed in a deep breath and slowly leaned down towards the deck. "The first problem," he said, holding up a finger. "There's too much of a power imbalance between the races. In my word, while humans and elves have fought just like yours... it was never to the point where one side won a permanent overwhelming victory. Sometimes humans won, sometimes elves won. But in the end, neither of the races ruled over every single place on Tamriel."

Vatryn stretched his legs out and rested his hands behind his head.

"Which brings us to the second reason," he said, putting out two fingers. "Despite my first point, a human-led Empire rules over my continent. However, we have peace because the humans that established this empire are quite cosmopolitan. And seeing how most humans here can't even accept elves as people, I find it impossible to believe the neighboring nations would allow such a state you want to exist. They'll stop at nothing to destroy you unless you somehow have a plan to counter invade them and install friendly monarchs."

"Easy for you to say," Iorveth scoffed. "But Saskia is different. She is a person of integrity, honesty, honor, and she won't sell out to Nilfgaard for a few florins."

"The way you talk about her makes me think she's some kind of messiah to you."

"A messiah for inspiration and courage. You'll understand once you meet her and soon the whole world will hear of the Virgin of Aedirn."

Vatryn chuckled under his breath, quick to cover his mouth as Iorveth narrowed his eyes.

"Something funny?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Nothing. Sorry if that meant offense but 'virgin'? Is that supposed to be inspirational? Has she done anything besides… well being that?" Vatryn asked.

"She defeated a dragon," Iorveth stated.

The words startled Vatryn out his slump, widening his eyes as turned to Iorveth. The Scoia'tael commander said it with no emotion, stating out a cold hard fact to Vatryn.

"Okay, color me impressed then," he said, raising his arms in defeat before returning to slump against the rail. "But even so I think my point still stands. This Saskia woman may be a very legendary fighter but… being powerful doesn't translate into changing the world. Well, the traditional way anyway."

"The traditional way?" Iorveth questioned.

"Too long of a discussion and I couldn't even explain it to you if I tried," Vatryn replied, yawning and stretching. "Wake me… _yawn… _wake me when we get there."

Iorveth shook his head to the dozing Dunmer, looking back towards the river as both awaited for their new destination.

Dawn arose over them as the barge made a landing towards an empty beach scattered with various plants and stone ruins. Vatryn followed along with Iorveth and a few men as the rest of the unit stayed by in the barge.

"Is this where they are?" Vatryn asked.

"They should be," Iorveth replied.

Further ahead they spotted several armored dwarves on the path, chatting and debating. One of them then spotted the Scoia'tael escort and quickly all rushed forwards with their weapons raised.

Vatryn raised his hands in response. "Hello there um… sirs. There's no need to raise your weapons. We're not here to cause any harm."

"Stay the fuck back you… whatever the hell you are," one of the dwarfs said, holding out a long axe. He then looked towards Iorveth. "What are you doing here, butcher?"

"I've come with a hundred archers - the best in the world. We're here to aid your cause," Iorveth said.

"As am I," Vatryn said, placing his hand over his heart.

"What- what are you?" the dwarf asked.

"I am a Dark Elf. Just think of me as the same as a regular elf with a skin condition if you want. Would you mind if we spoke to this Saskia leader of yours about lending her our assistance?" Vatryn asked.

The dwarves glanced back and forth between each other. They huddled together, whispering fervently before facing Vatryn and setting their weapons down.

"I don't know. That's for her to decide," the dwarf, who Vatryn assumed to be their leader, said. "But you'll have to wait. Saskia and Prince Penis - ptooey - rather, Stennis went off to parley with Henselt. The boys and I are waiting in case something goes wrong."

"If we're going to wait then could you tell me-" Vatryn began to say but suddenly stopped.

His eyes narrowed away, turning his head in all directions and garnering everyone's attention. He then looked up, widening his eyes to what he saw as the rest looked on.

"The sun's gone dark," the dwarf pointed and walking past through the Scoia'tael escort. "Call the sorceress!"

Vatryn continued looking on, perplexed as to why the sky became black like the night but along with a faint feeling he had in his gut.

"Come, Vatryn," Iorveth said, stirring Vatryn out of his trance to follow.

"You know something tells me this is something magical in nature," Vatryn said.

Iorveth rolled his eyes. "You don't say," he said, increasing his speed to run further up the path.

Soldiers ran past the duo in fear, yelling and pushing past others. Loud whispers could be heard and the path began to fog up as they come upon Saskia's position. Five people stood by a broken tent, simply standing in place. One was a man, who judging by the crown Vatryn assumed a ruler along with the man in robes and with a staff to be a mage.

But what surprised Vatryn was to who he also saw as none other than Sile. The sorceress conjured a portal, gesturing for the two men to come when she spotted Vatryn. Her body froze up, backing away slightly as the two men looked to what caught her attention.

Vatryn stared back, unsure what to say as the three strangers looked at him with confusion and a bit of awe.

"Vatryn!" Iorveth yelled, snapping Vatryn out of his gaze and prompting Sile and the two men to escape into the portal.

Vatryn and Iorveth approached a woman trying to help up an injured man in golden armor. She gave to the two but before muttering a word, regained herself upright and pointed behind them. Puffs of black mists conjured from thin air, raising skeletal soldiers cloaked in a ghostly aura.

"Great… wraiths," Vatryn replied, brandishing out Trueflame alongside a glowing glass dagger.

"We have to protect Saskia!" Iorveth said as he charged the wraiths.

Vatryn rushed the wraiths down, Trueflame at the helm. With one strike, he would leave a molten cut across the wraiths and they dispersed back into a mist. He parried their attacks, their ghostly blades disintegrating shortly after. All while holding his dagger behind.

He was confident, walking at a leisurely pace. But when he thrusthed Trueflame without even looking, his grip tightened. He looked to where his blade struck, embedded deep within a hulking mass of armor. With but a swing, it launched Vatryn away and flung him into the dirt.

A wraith swung down on him, spurring Vatryn up and kicking it away. The large monster roared defiantly at Vatryn, slamming down its massive shield. Vatryn planted his feet, holding his ground as the creature began its rampaging charge.

As it charged forward with Trueflame still protruding out in its chest area, Vatryn switched his dagger between hands. Narrowing his eyes, he twirled his body around with flawless precision. The creature continued on, unaware as within that twirl, Vatryn stabbed his dagger to its back. A dagger fortified with extra strength that combined with the creature's momentum launched it straight into the dirt.

It flailed around, trying to get up when Vatryn then launched himself straight down onto its back. With a hard stomp, it dispersed back into the black mist and leaving behind Trueflame.

"Shit, I hope didn't break it," Vatryn said, plucking the sword out from the dirt.

Back around him, he saw Iorveth and Saskia finishing off the last of the wraiths. Approaching back to them, his instincts suddenly drove him to roll forward. Another wraith appeared behind and all around as more of the black mist conjured up even more of them along with those hulking armored creatures.

Soon they surrounded the three, all backed up into a corner. Vatryn reached down into his pockets, ready to unleash more power when a light exploded within their faces. They were disoriented for a few seconds and their vision faced back to see all the wraiths now dead and some type of dome surrounding them.

"An owl!" Iorveth pointed up to the creature, floating above the group and pulsing out energy.

"Philippa! She'll show us the way," Saskia said, hoisting the golden armored man over his shoulder.

"Follow the owl then huh?" Vatryn asked, casually striking out Trueflame at wraiths.

"My deef! Hep me!" the man cried out.

"Shut up, dh'oine," Iorveth chided the man, striking down a wraith.

The group trekked through the misty plain. The dome overhead them protected them along the way, striking out pulses of magic at any wraiths that tried to enter. Any others that made it past were quickly struck down by Vatryn and Iorveth. And throughout their walk, Vatryn noticed something peculiar among the wraiths. The majority it seemed wasn't attacking them but each other. As it fighting in a type of battle.

"_Strange, was there a battle here already?_" he thought to himself.

Several minutes then passed and the group made it back out into the stretch of path far from the barren plains. The man in golden armor managed to pick himself up and no longer wincing out in pain. Yet he and Saskia made no attempts to talk as if obliged not to speak as they walked beside Vatryn.

The dwarf from earlier before stood at the path's end as the owl flew in and landed on his shoulder. The owl glowed in an orange aura, and in a flash transformed into a woman.

"I hate flying through fog…" the woman declared, plucking a leftover owl feather from her hair.

"_This world full of surprises eh Vatryn?_" Vatryn muttered under his breath.

The woman gave one look towards Vatryn, vehemently staring at him and approached him.

"Saskia, are you all right?" the woman asked, keeping her distance from Vatryn.

"It's just a flesh wound. We owe you our lives. And… um… I'm sorry but you are..." Saskia said, stressing to say another word.

"Oh… sorry, I didn't introduce myself earlier but you know…" Vatryn replied, scratching his head and looking away. He then coughed into his hand. "My name is Vatryn Brios and I am a Dark Elf."

"Dark Elf?" the woman asked.

"Yes, I'm from another world. I presume you are Philippa Eilhart, correct? I've been meaning to find you and would like to ask for your assistance to help me return to my world," Vatryn said.

"You said you were here to help," the dwarf recalled.

"I did and I am sorry for the deception Mr…"

"Yarpen Zigrin," the dwarf replied.

"As I said, I didn't want to deceive you but I had no choice. But more importantly, this is not my fight. I simply wish to return to my world," Vatryn pleaded.

"Well I am sorry to say but I cannot help you at the moment nor do I see why this concerns me," Philippa said.

"But…"

"I must agree with the sorceress," Yarpen interjected. "If you're not here to help, then piss off."

"That's enough you two," Saskia interrupted. "He helped protect us from the wraiths. If he wasn't here to help then I doubt he would have done so."

Vatryn raised a finger. "Well that's because I… well you see its…" he said, wandering off to Iorveth's side.

What response could he say besides some innate desire to help?

"My chief concern is your safety Saskia," Philippa said, stirring the conversation back. "And we have enough on our agenda as is without having to keep an eye on a complete unknown. Especially some 'unique' angulation of an elf."

"And the folk are riled, Saskia," Yarpen added. "First the sun went out, the Squirrels arrived, and now there's fog… it's too much for the common folk. Especially with this gray elf here."

"Grayish-blue I'll have you know," Vatryn interjected, approaching before Saskia. "But I see how it is. So here's what I propose - I will help you Saskia and join your cause in exchange for Philippa's assistance to return me home."

"What can you do?" Yarpen asked, crossing his arms.

"Many things," Vatryn recounted. "I'm known as a hero from my world and I'm very capable of many situations. I am excellent in both combat and spells, a problem solver, an alchemist, and if I might add… pretty decent cook."

"I've never seen you do that last part," Iorveth said.

"You never asked," Vatryn shrugged.

"What do you mean by spells?" Philippa asked. "Do you mean Signs like a witcher?"

"Not exactly no," Vatryn replied, shaking his head. "Of course right now I am currently unable to use magic due to how different it is from my world."

"How so?" Philippa asked.

Vatryn let out a grin and wagged his finger. "I can't say for now but I'd be glad to tell you more about my world's magic if you agree to let me lend you my assistance. If there's one universal thing between both worlds, I bet its that you mages love to get your hands on new knowledge."

The group looked toward Saskia for an answer. She glanced over Vatryn, examining his armor and weapons as he coyly grinned back.

"If I might add Saskia," Iorveth said. "I can testify to this man's skill and I can say that he would be helpful to your cause. You're probably even guaranteed to succeed with Vatryn on your side."

Saskia turned once again to Vatryn as the Dunmer nodded his head and grinned. Vatryn knew he would be here for a while as the Psijics seemed to want to extend his stay. No doubt to fix some sort of universal catastrophe, but fuck that. His best bet to get home at the moment was with this sorceress, so sticking with her, and a decidedly more progressive group of people seemed to be his best option.

It was a rare day that the Nerevarine bent his knee to another, but if he had to swear to a cause, this was an acceptable one.

Vatryn obliged, taking a knee before Saska and planting his blade into the ground. "Lady… Saskia, I offer my services and loyalty in this endeavor of yours. I shall fight for you and defend Vergen or so help me by the Divines that I am striked down for failing. From this day forth…"

Saskia chuckled, gesturing for him to stop. "There's no need to go through such protocols. I am not a Lady but a protector of the people of Upper Aedirn. If you are offering to help us then I accept your assistance."

"Oh!" Vatryn said, now feeling silly. "I feel… really dumb right now."

"That's not the word I would describe," Iorveth said, giving off a wry smile.

"And since you've offered me your services, then perhaps you could lend your assistance against this anomaly of wraiths at hand," Saskia said.

"That is if you do solve problems," Philippa said as she briefly glared at Vatryn.

"This isn't my first time dealing with curses and magical anomalies," Vatryn said, huffing out an air of pride.

"In that case, Yarpen," Saskia said, continuing down the path. "Summon all the commanders to the meeting hall. We'll hear what we can expect from this anomaly and how we might be rid of it. Vatryn, Philippa - I want you there too. Iorveth, you will have to wait while I prepare the commanders for your arrival."

"Are you sure that is wise to bring in the gray elf?" the man in the golden armor asked, finally breaking from his silence.

"Grayish blue," Vatryn retorted with a sigh in mild irritation. "I'm not Scoia'tael so I don't see why they'd be afraid of me. And besides, I heard this place of yours was one where people of all races were equals. Am I the exception simply because of my skin?"

The group exchanged glances once more and Yarpen spoke up. "Eh… it's more than that but you do make a point…"

"Then it's settled," Vatryn exclaimed, pressing forward. "So shall we go then?"

"Yes, let's not waste any more time then," Saskia said, leading the group to follow back towards the town.

* * *

The stone walls of the dwarven town somewhat reminded Vatryn of the dwemer ruins he visited on Solstheim. Though these were more so built for living above ground than below, as he peeked up at the walls fortifications.

Vatryn could feel a sense of wonder as he entered through the gates, wanting to explore every nook and cranny around. A tap to his shoulder drove him back to focus on his objective as Saskia stopped within a few feets of the gate.

"I want to see all the commanders in the council chamber," she said, commanding to the man in golden armor. A dwarf in a green tunic strode up to her. "Cecil, the gates are to remain shut until we're done. You'll answer with your beard if they open for any reason."

Cecil nodded, signaling over to the guards to close the massive doors shut. Just Iorveth and Vatryn were left behind, awkwardly staring on as the others left for their own duties.

"Well…" Vatryn said, stroking his chin. "This has been... interesting. Feels like I'm on a quest again. Do you think they'll give me like a sword or something? Money even?"

Iorveth scoffed at his remark, shaking his head as he went off with his men. Vatryn hummed in reply, arching a brow as he watched Iorveth leave without another word.

"_Did I offend him_?" Vatryn muttered to himself.

The dwarf Cecil approached in front, waving his hand to catch Vatryn's attention. "Um… Welcome to Vergen…um..."

"You can call me Vatryn or Dunmer if you prefer. Either way is fine."

"Very well then, Vatryn. Welcome to Vergen. I'm Cecil Burdon, the alderman. We've got a spare room at the inn for you. It's not much, but at least you'll have a roof over your head and a solid bed 'neath your arse."

"Better than having to sleep in a cave or the dirt floor for once," Vatryn replied, beaming high up at the thought of a proper bed.

"Skalen," Cecil called over to another younger dwarf in a red tunic. "Show master Vatryn to his quarters, and visit Reverand Olcan's chambers on your way back to inform everyone that uh… he has departed."

"That is, he died a hero, slain by the invaders," Skalen stated with Cecil nodding in approval.

"Exactly. You see there, dunmer? He's young and clever. We'll make a real dwarf out of him yet!" Cecil replied and leaving the two alone.

"Yeah, sure…" Vatryn said, scratching his head at the comment. "So then Skalen, lead the way."

"Follow me," Skalen said, waving for him to follow.

He ushered Vatryn into a tavern below some stairs, once again reminding Vatryn of the similarities there dwarves had to his "dwarves". Inside the tavern, he could hear the sounds of chattering and drinking that any other tavern always seemed to house.

But as soon as he entered the tavern proper, all such activity stopped in a sudden drop. Dwarves gathered around the tables, some humans engaged in some fight, and even the lonely drunk. All gazed upon the Dunmer, uttering not a single word.

Vatryn weakly smiled, giving off a simple wave as he followed behind Skalen. The tavern recipients still kept their eyes trained on Vatryn, turning along as he walked towards the back and up towards the rooms.

The room he followed Skalen into was exactly as Cecil described to him. It was very dark inside save for a few candles and lanterns that barely lit the parts they were at. The bed mattress quite rugged, missing even a pillow and a blanket.

Even so, it was step up from the cave he had to sleep in and the addition of a fireplace gave the room an acceptable level of warmth.

"This shall be your chamber, gray one," Skalen said, "They said Seltkirk of Gulet himself slept in this bed before battle. Didn't bring him any luck, but at least he was well-rested before he died. Need anything else?" he asked.

"Do you know where the council chambers are?" Vatryn asked.

"When you go outside and back up the stairs, turn around to your left and go up the path," Skalen said, "Keep going up to the top until you see a hallway. Take the first right you see then immediately right again and you're there."

"_Left, around, up, right, right,_" Vatryn repeatedly muttered under his breath. "Got it. Thank you, Skalen."

"Your welcome," Skalen replied and left the room.

Vatryn closed the door behind him and plopped onto the bed. He groaned and laid flat across, rubbing his eyes.

"What a day so far," he stated evenly, squirming off his pack to the floor. "Alright Vatryn, you just have to get through a couple of days. Stop the wraiths then beat up that army across the Pontar. That's all you have to do. Uh... what have I gotten myself into now?"

* * *

Walking out into the town's narrow streets was awkward as hell for Vatryn. Barely any people were around as he passed up towards the council chambers and any that were there still gave the same look like those in the tavern did.

Vatryn ignored them, adamant to show off confidence as he walked into the chambers with his head held high. Down the hall, he spotted various people all around a large circular stone table as they listened to Saskia's words.

Soon, one of the humans took notice of Vatryn and his eyes opened wide in bewilderment. The rest of the table followed in tandem with the human councilors getting out of there seats while the rest simply turned their gaze.

"Wha- what is that? Or who?" of the human councilors asked. "Who let this elf in here?"

"Gentleman, calm yourselves," Saskia sternly said. "He is the one that helped save the prince's life and mine against the wraiths. He has offered his services to help with Vergen."

"But what is-"

"Sorry to interrupt, sir but allow me to introduce myself," Vatryn said, taking a quick bow before them. "My name is Vatryn Brios and I am a Dark Elf. I am from another world and in my quest to return home, I have agreed to help you all and protect this home of yours."

"Another world?" one of them asked.

"I know that sounds hard to believe but it's true. I've no notion what this place is nor do you know of a place called Tamriel correct?" Vatryn asked. He received no response. "I thought so. But all the same, I have agreed to lend my assistance to which I think you'll find my services invaluable."

"Why would we trust an elf?" one of the councilors questioned, crossing his arms as the rest of his colleagues listened in close.

"I am not like your elves if that is what you mean," Vatryn explained. "Where I am from, elves and humans live in peace with each other. Of course, it is not complete harmony but what society of people is. We have countries where elves rule, countries where humans rule, and even countries where beastfolk rule."

"Beastfolk?" Yarpen asked, directing more intrigued faces to Vatryn.

"Yes. Bipedal cat people and lizard people. For the most part," Vatryn said. The councilors looked at him in disbelief. "And judging from your faces, you find it hard to believe but it's the truth. Look, I don't have any reason to hate any humans. The only thing I shared with elves here is the shape of my ears and lifespan perhaps. And even though I'm not from here, I am willing to take a stand to help you all. If I, a stranger with no ties to this land, am willing to put my life on the line, then could perhaps you all put your prejudices aside for once?"

"They're not prejudices, they're-"

"They're facts," Vatryn said, quoting with his fingers. "I know. I heard the same thing before from some elves here. But perhaps a bit of truth? Humans, elves, any mortal beings. We're all pretty shitty terrible beings living in the same shitty world that is life."

They all stayed silent, staring back at Vatryn. Some looked to slump down, their faces frowned and a few others glared back at him.

Vatryn sighed. "Look, you don't have to like me but you'll be missing out on a lot of skills that I can provide. Skills that can help turn the tide of your cause back in your favor."

"Such as?" one asked.

"In my world, magic is much more prevalent and common among its inhabitants thus in my travels I've come across many cases of dealing with magical anomalies. I am quite skilled in combat, perhaps among the best if I dare say so myself. And I can help with any other mundane problems you might all be having around town."

"And what would you ask in return?" a human councilor asked.

"I only ask for Ms. Eilhart's help for a problem of mine after securing your home's freedom. That is all," Vatryn replied.

"Hey, if you're willing to help then I don't see why not," Yarpen said, leaning closer to the table.

"As do I," Saskia added. "Gentlemen?"

The human councilors looked to each other, peeking slightly at Vatryn. "If he's willing then, we'll accept," one of them answered as the others nodded in silence.

"Then it's settled," Saskia stated, cueing over to Philippa.

"Now then to the real matters at hand," Philippa said. "You've all seen the magical phenomenon covering the battlefield. It is most likely a blood curse, an old and powerful spell. We do not know who cast it or why. However, the curse has brought on one piece of good news and several bad."

She began to recount. "The good news is that Henselt and his army have been halted for the time being."

"And the bad news?" one of the councilors asked.

"The mist will grow - it may even engulf Vergen and wraiths may emerge from it," Philippa said.

"Can they be made penitent? With an axe to the head?" Yarpen asked.

"When I was fighting them, I easily destroyed them but I think it was because of my sword," Vatryn interjected. "Wraiths exist in my world too and the ones here acted similarly. So that would also mean they like the ones back home are weak to silver and enchanted weapons. You can try the axe but I'm afraid it'll take quite a while to defeat them."

"So is there any way to drive the mist away? Exorcise it?" Yarpen asked.

"A question for myself and our new helper here if his experience is true," Philippa answered, crossing her arms. "Now gentlemen, I don't require you to understand this phenomenon, but there are a few rules I insist you follow. First, no one is to approach the mist. It is mortally dangerous. In addition, we need to learn the story of the battle. For this, I especially count on the aid of Mr. Cecil Burdon."

"At your service, m'Lady," Cecil replied as he somberly hung his head down.

"Thank you," Philippa said. "Third, to lift the curse will require some objects symbolic of the war. They must belong to those that perished here three years past."

"Pff!" Yarpen spat out. "More scrap iron from that massacre lying about than lice in Cecil's beard. I thought curses were best handled with-"

"Please leave the thinking to me, Mister Zigrin," Philippa interrupted. "And I'd gladly hear less from you from now on. The objects must be magically active and strictly linked to the ghosts of the fallen. That is all."

"Let me be clear - you're all to aid Philippa and Vatryn," Saskia added. The room nodded in agreement. "Now then, to worldly matters. How many are we?"

"Saskia, you know well-" Yarpen began to speak.

"How many?" Saskia asked, stressing her words.

Yarpen sighed. "We dwarves are near two hundred. But don't judge us by our numbers."

"A half-thousand peasants will come, though you'll get no precise count," an ealdorman added.

"Milords?" Saskia asked, penning the question to the nobles directly across.

"Fifty-three knights and another two hundred armed men. Not enough…" one replied, slumping in his voice.

"Henselt has five thousand men. Five to one against us. What think you of that?" Saskia asked.

"We are few, they are many. But we have our walls, low though they are," a councilor replied. "If we had archers, who knows…"

"Oh, for a regiment of heavy arbalists from Lyria," Yarpen said, slamming his fists together with excitement.

"We have something better. Iorveth's elves. Scoia'tael," Saskia responded.

On cue, Iorveth strode into the room. His face grizzled with a blank expression, breathing off confidence as he stood behind Saskia with his arms crossed.

All councilors, both the dwarves and humans, stood up with shock and disgust on their faces. Many stared wide-eyed at Iorveth with a couple even back a few steps back from their seats.

"_Jeez, Iorveth. Don't have to act all tough and stoic,_" Vatryn thought as he shuffled off to the side.

"Gentlemen, I give you Iorveth," Saskia presented with a wave of her hand.

"What do you seek here, murderer?!" one of the human councilors demanded.

"A hundred of the North's best archers await your orders, Dragonslayer," Iorveth answered in a dry tone, ignoring all of the councilors.

"I take no pleasure in fraternizing with elves, except maybe the dunmer…"

"Thank you," Vatryn interjected, receiving a glare from Iorveth.

"But even a shit-coated stick can be a weapon."

"He burned down the villages of many in my hoard," one of the human councilors shot back.

"The free peasantry is one thing, as is accepting a foreign elf," the man in the golden armor firmly said. "But a criminal with a price on his head in all the northern realms is too much."

"Saskia, say the word and we'll depart," Iorveth said, staring stoically at the noble councilors.

"Hear me out," Saskia uttered, rasing out her arms and voice. "Iorveth came to fight for me. I trust him and I know that he'll stay the course just like each of you."

"How could you know that? He's an elf! Treason runs in his veins," a human councilor said.

Vatryn snarled beneath his breath and narrowed his eyes. To hear at their tirade about elves and their supposed evilness… he couldn't help but feel disgusted at their irony.

"But for the first time in scores of years, his fight makes sense," Saskia insisted. "The Scoia'tael have been betrayed and cheated, by Nilfgaard and the Valley of Flowers. Now they have a new goal. The Pontar Valley could be the first state where men, elves, and dwarves wouldn't have to fear each other but live together side by side."

"_I gotta say, this girl knows how to give a speech,_" Vatryn whispered to Iorveth.

"_Quiet,_" he responded.

"First, however, we have the battle to win," Saskia continued. "You know who we're up against. It's a splendid army, brave and well-led and they will fight to the death. I want Iorveth to sit at the same table as we do. I want him to kill Kaedweni for us. I assure you that he'll do this with a smile if you only just let him in."

"If I'm to see a smile on that skinny face then I'm in," Yarpen said, shrugging. "Iorveth stays."

"Bloody hell! Father's turning in his grave, but a must's a must. I say aye."

"Nay!" the man in the golden armor said, shaking his head along with the others to his side.

"You killed my men, elf? Remember them?" one of the noble councilors questioned.

"If hadn't killed them, they'd have killed me," Iorveth answered as Vatryn unceremoniously slapped his own face.

The noble councilor grumbled. "All right, for the sake of better times and Kaedwen's doom! Aye!" he said, pumping his fist high.

"Cheers!" Yarpen raised a mug.

The whole table followed suit, saying cheers to each other as they all raised their mugs in unison and drank.

"_Okay, yeah that's fine. Don't offer me any,_" Vatryn muttered. Iorveth elbowed into the side of him, causing Vatryn to mouth out his pain.

As Vatryn thought up of a comeback to Iorveth, his ears perked up to a strange sound that suddenly came. It was weird whining followed up by a sizzling noise one would hear when boiling water. It was coming from next to Saskia.

Vatryn froze as he looked towards Saskia. The woman swayed her head side to side, her eyes rolling up into her head. She collapsed, letting out a gasp of pain.

Everyone stood shocked and wide-eyed as they all rushed over to Saskia. Philippa and Iorveth were the first to get to her and the sorceress examined over Saskia.

"Poison! She's dying… quickly take her somewhere safe and guard her with your lives!" Philippa said.

"I'll place my best warriors on watch!" Iorveth said as he began to lift Saskia.

As they called out to people outside for help, Vatryn managed to take notice of the mug Saskia held. The entire council rushed past Vatryn, watching on as Iorveth carried Saskia out. Vatryn took hold of the mug and held it close to his nose. He huffed in its fumes and it burned deep into his nostrils. He could feel his eyes pop out along with his heart beating fervently. Then it stopped.

He took a moment to look down into the bubbly green liquid then to his emerald ring on his right hand. "_I should be immune to all poisons but I still felt it for just a moment,_" Vatryn thought.

He peeked behind to see the others still focused on the door out. With a quick flip of his pocket, Vatryn pulled out an empty vial and poured some of the drink in. Slowly, he put the mug down and followed out with the others.

* * *

Outside one of the houses, Vatryn sat and waited with Iorveth as Cecil walked back and forth. Philippa had been inside with Saskia for hours and by now the sky had become dusk.

"How much longer is she gonna take?" Cecil muttered.

"Soon," Iorveth said as he continued to glance at the door. Philippa emerged forth as he finished his words, her face dripped with despair.

"Does Saskia live?" Cecil asked.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Philippa nodded. "I've slowed her life functions as far as possible and so far her condition is stable."

"Do you know what poisoned her?" Iorveth asked.

"Thaumador," Philippa said. "Commonly known as magepain. It has a terrible reputation."

"Then an antidote must exist for poison with that kind of reputation. Can we do anything to help?" Vatryn asked.

"Yes - treatment with require herbs, magic… and blood," she recited.

"I'm guessing special blood for the treatment," Vatryn suggested.

"Correct. We require royal blood."

"_We could really use Letho right now,_" Iorveth muttered.

"So why royal blood? Is it that special?" Vatryn asked, scratching his chin.

"It is the genotype within royal blood that is special," Philippa explained. "Rulers are issued from ancient dynasties and over the ages, they need exceptional resistance and strength to survive. As they rarely admit common blood, the strength of their genes remains great. With the blood, I shall employ self-healing, genetic therapy that will 'teach' Saskia's body how to rid itself of the poison."

"You'll have her drink human blood?" Iorveth questioned, his voice growling enough for Vatyrn to hear.

"No, I shall inject it directly into her heart."

"And the herbs?" Vatryn asked.

Philippa began to list out with her fingers. "I'll need a subterranean variety of purple foxglove - known to the dwarves as the immortelle. And an elven rose of remembrance."

Vatryn pursed his lips, his mind circling back to his pack where he held the rose. But he hesitated to say a word. While the rose would help, its enchantment by the Psijics would link him with the mage that touched him. And something deep in his gut told him that linking with this Philippa would be a bad idea, thus he kept silent.

Iorveth scratched his face to think and he spoke first. "There are no elven gardens nearby to find the rose," he said. "We must return to Flotsam."

"Well, you can send a scout back. The immortelles though should be easier to find. I'm sure the dwarves here know about it, right?" Vatryn asked, looking to Cecil and receiving a nod. "Okay, so what else?"

"Thaumador is a self-perpetuating substance. Any incursion into a cluster of poisoned cells causes an immediate chain reaction. Each tainted cell that is removed is replaced by ten new tainted cells. To interrupt this reaction, I'll need an ungodly amount of the Power."

"Power?" Vatryn questioned. "That was something to do with magic right?"

"Vatryn, you possess vast quantities of enchanted items I believe," Iorveth said.

"I do yes but I doubt they'd work. And besides, Philippa you said we'd need an ungodly amount. I do have one item that might count but… I'm not willing to part with it."

"Why not its-" Iorveth shot back, pausing. "It's your sword isn't it?"

"Yes and as I said, I'm not willing to part with it," Vatryn replied. "Look we'll find something else out there and if not then I'm sure I could scrounge up a bunch of my stuff together. Maybe they'd add to something, who knows?"

"Then we have our tasks," Iorveth said. "Philippa, what of the wraiths?"

"First I must see to Saskia to see if the spells keeping her alive are in order. Actually, Vatryn you could get started on that problem as well. Ask the locals about the battle, learn something about it," she said.

"And I'll search for the poisoner and send some scouts to collect the rose," Iorveth added.

"I…" Vatryn began to speak as the two left, each in the opposite direction. He still held out a finger, his voice still letting out the sound of a word he wanted to say.

"_Nevermind then,_" he muttered, slumping his back. "_Now I'm being reminded why adventuring sucked sometimes. I'm the delivery boy._"

"What was that?" Cecil asked.

"Oh… nothing. Just having an introspection," Vatryn replied, waving him off. "Well… I best get started then. Hey, mind coming with me to the inn?"

"What for?" Cecil asked as he followed Vatryn down the street.

"I wanted to know… those guys that fight in the back. Do they take new challengers?"

"Shouldn't you be getting the ingredients for the cure?"

"I've got a couple of days until they come back with the rose, no worries. So anyway, about those fights..."

* * *

_**Thoughts? **_


	12. A Quest Here, A Distraction There

**Chapter 12: A Quest Here, A Distraction There**

Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scroll Series or the Witcher Series

The Elder Scrolls belong to Bethesda and the Witcher belongs to Andrzej Sapkowski.

**The chapter contains original and paraphrased dialogue from the Witcher 2**

**A/N: **So very sorry everyone for the wait but life hasn't been kind. Work from school has been hard and a cold has kept me confined to bed for the past week. But I managed to produce such a chapter for you all. Anyways, don't expect another until about April so I hope you enjoy this chapter. I would really love feedback on this chapter.

* * *

Vatryn could not help to watch in amazement at the cadre of dwarves at the table, drinking insane amounts of alcohol without becoming inebriated. There was Yarpen of course along with Cecil to his right. There was save for one dwarf who refused a drink, who Vatryn was introduced to as Sheldon Skaggs, a veteran of a battle that happened in this world. If they were in Tamriel, they'd make excellent members of Sanguine. All but Sheldon continued to chug as Vatryn glanced and sniffed at his own drink.

"What's the matter with you gray one?" Yarpen asked, wiping away at his beard. "Our drinks not good enough for you?"

"Hmm…" Vatryn said, perking up from his trance. He quickly looked down, grasping hold of his mug. "Oh, no of course not. Sorry, it's just… I was in thought."

Just as quickly as he looked down, Vatryn swallowed his drink.

"Not bad," Vatryn said with a smack of his lips. "So… this town of yours? Reminds me of some places back home; homey, kind of close-knit, and mostly homogenous."

"What are you getting at?" Yarpen asked.

"I'm only curious as to why you're all fighting for Saskia," Vatryn answered as he stared down at his mug, swirling the contents around. "My situation is… complicated but you all seemed to have readily rally around her. And I'm not talking about the whole 'being besieged' thing, I get that. But the ideas she espouses seemed to taken hold on you."

Yarpen shrugged and leaned forward. "I'm not a philosopher but Saskia's someone that I just know who I am risking my neck for. Besides, axe-swingings my trade."

"The woman's cuckoo," Sheldon said, "Ready to spit in the emperor's face even. But I have to admit, she knows all about warcraft and, dammit, what she says speaks true. Vergen should be a free place, no matter if you're a dwarf, man or mangy elf. Eh… no offense."

"None taken," Vatryn replied. "Though I have to agree that the Scoia'tael are pretty mangey. I mean you'd think people trying to uphold some sense of nobleness would at least learn proper hygiene."

Vatryn pinched his nose, waving his hand out as he spoke. A few laughs elicited from some of the dwarves, causing even Vatryn to let loose a small chuckle.

"If I'm being honest, I'm surprised by all of your answers. From the short time I've been here, it seemed impossible to me that all the races here would play nice. But you're all full onboard this equal dream ride."

"We wouldn't be it nor for Lady Saskia," Cecil replied, raising his mug.

Vatryn smirked a smile. "It would seem so. And speaking of the Dragonslayer, I should inform you all that I've been tasked with helping to heal her and the mist."

Vatryn proceeded to pull out a journal and small black chalk. "Mind telling me where I can find some immortelles? Along with any information about some past battle in the fields."

"Ha… only if you'll agree to more vodka!" Yarpen suggested, raising his mug.

"Why not?" Vatryn shrugged, clinking their mugs together.

* * *

Through their conversation, Vatryn learned of the immortelles in an abandoned mine and of the monsters inhabiting them. Due to the war, the town had no one to spare to clear them but Yarpen offered him and his mates assistance to which Vatryn agreed. But before he could deal with that, something else had caught his eye. The fight in the back of the tavern.

Admittedly, it had received most of his attention during his conversation with the dwarves. Not because he found the conversation boring or anything but more so the draw of a quest.

Vatryn had been musing on the subject for some time yet the situation with Saskia and Vergen has only exacerbated these thoughts. On the one hand, he wanted nothing to do with this world, only agreeing to go along with others to find a way home. Yet the sole reason he's in this situation was to leave Tamriel and go on an adventure in new lands. But it shouldn't be that difficult of a choice for Vatryn. Should it?

"Hey, what are you doing elf? You just goin' to stand there and gawp?"

Vatryn snapped out his thoughts as he looked towards a scraggy man staring at him. The man raised his brows at Vatryn, crossing his arms for an answer when Vatryn was suddenly pushed away.

"Out of the way gray ears," a brawny man in tattoos said as he turned towards the scraggy man. "20 marks on the fat one," he said, handing a pouch.

Vatryn grumbled, wiping his shoulder as he approached the scraggy man again.

"You gonna say something or am I goin' to have to throw you out gray elf?" the scraggy man asked, catching the ire of Vatryn's growl.

"My name is Vatryn, not gray elf," Vatryn replied, stepping close to the scraggy man. For a second, the man trembled as he backed away. His scared look snapped Vatryn out of his mood, stepping back and sighing.

"So what's going on here anyway? Some sort of fight club?" Vatryn asked.

"What do you think?" the scraggy man declared.

"Well I think it is a bit strange a nobleman would take part in this," Vatryn said, peering behind to see a fat man clad in royal clothes beating on a peasant. Crowds around them cheered on, tossing out purses of coins as others threw out slurs.

"Sign of the times," the scraggy man said, "Saskia treats the peasantry as our equals. And once you let a dog inside, it'll never sleep in the doghouse again."

"_Guess nobles don't change between worlds either,_" Vatryn thought.

"But that's not for me to judge," the scraggy man continued. "The point is, you can make good coin on fistfights. Want to give it a go?"

"So you're the bookie then?" Vatryn asked.

"I am a nobleman of Vengerburg with ties to all nobles in the North. Not some 'bookie'," the bookie said, strutting his chin high. "But yes… I do handle the bets for onlookers and fighters. It's simple actually. Each contender puts down his stake and it rises the more a contender wins. If you want to fight, put down some coin."

"Coin, huh?" Vatryn questioned, skimming into his pouch and pulling out the various coins he collected. "Like these?"

The bookie looked over his palm and shook his head. "We don't take orens here, that's Temerian currency. You need marks or crowns at the least. Come back when you actually have money."

"That's not all I have," Vatryn said, quickly scrounging back into his pouches. "How about… some amethysts? Must be worth some marks."

"Let me see…" the bookie said, taking hold of one of the amethysts. He hummed, observing it from all sides. "Yes… this is real though a bit crude. Two of these would work for about 60 marks."

"Then its a deal," Vatryn said, swiping his hand to drop amethysts in the bookie's palm. "So then, got any interesting opponents for me?"

"For starters, you'll fight a novice. And before you do that, you'll take off your armor before fighting," the bookie said.

"That guy is wearing armor," Vatryn pointed to a fighter clad in leather straps.

The bookie waved him off. "That barely covers his whole body. I don't know what kind of armor you're wearing but it probably has some crazy elf magic on it. If you wanna fight, then no armor."

Vatryn wanted to argue back, raising his finger in protest until his brain reminded him. His armor was heavily enchanted and it was enchanted by an elven mage. Of course, he couldn't tell the bookie that and complied with his demands.

Within entering the makeshift arena, Vatryn had only the clothes that he wore underneath. A ragged tunic and trousers complete with foot wraps. Ironically, the same thing Vatryn wore as a prisoner of the Imperials.

"Hey, it's an easy one Olbalm," a crowd goer yelled.

"Yeah, knock that knife-ear down!" another yelled.

More of the slurs and insults chattered around Vatryn as he looked at the onlookers. Though many of the chants were racist, he could tell it seemed more out of bravado than prejudice. It's what he thought until his opponent, dressed in nothing but knickers and hood, walked in.

"Oh, ho… today's not your lucky day gray elf," Olbalm said, raising his fists. "Goin' knock you on your ass and take your shit."

Vatryn fell into his fighting stance. "Well, aren't you a-"

Olbalm roared and charged at Vatryn, his fist launching straight at his face. With a step, Vatryn swiveled on his heel and Olbalm swung at empty air. The peasant swung his elbow back, completely missing Vatryn. Vatryn's fist then pummeled into Olbalm's stomach, keeling him over with his knee with a follow-up kick to the face.

The onlookers were in disbelief, their cheers but a silent echo as they looked down to an unconscious Olbalm, bloodied in the nose. Vatryn stared blankly back at them and on an impulse, planted his feet on top of the peasant and pumped his fist into the air.

They erupted into a small cheer, chanting and clapping at his victory. Vatryn felt a sense of pride well into his chest, a feeling he had not experienced for a while.

"Bookie, who's next?" Vatryn called out.

"I'll take on the elf," a voice called as a large man stepped into the arena. He too like the man before him was hardly dressed in but trousers and a fur drape.

"Let's go," the fat man said.

Vatryn obliged and the two began a dance around another. They both smiled, teeth bare as they waited for each other to make a move. The fat man yelled, jumping high into the air and slamming his fists onto Vatryn. With his momentum, Vatryn parried the man's fist. Vatryn's hands bared out, grabbing the man and flipping him onto his back.

The man laid out cold over the floor, his giant gut laying bare for all to see. Vatryn looked a bit concerned at his state, wondering if what he did was too much. His finger rested over the fat man's neck and the confirmation of a pulse lowered Vatryn's heartbeat.

Not that the spectators seemed that concerned with the man's condition. Vatryn's win seemed to garner more support from them, particularly among the dwarves as Vatryn saw them handed bags of coins from the human spectators.

"_Guess greed is more important than others well being then,_" Vatryn muttered as he slowly pushed the fat man out of the arena. He flexed out his arms. "Looks like this elf is more than just a knife-ear, huh? Come on, anyone else wants to challenge me?"

Silence bequeathed among the spectators and quickly descended into murmurs. Vatryn could hear somewhat even between the loud sounds of tankards and song in the tavern drowning his ears. They talked of him as some gray monster, too powerful for any normal person to fight. Questions of demon guile, magic, or even just plain trickery popped up.

Vatryn's upbeat demeanor soured at the words, his smile and arms lowering back to equilibrium. He shouldn't be surprised that they might feel that way but even so… why was his spirit lowered? Could it be… no, now was not the time to dwell on it. For now at least.

"Well, if no one else is up for it. I guess I'm the champion fist-fighter here..." Vatryn announced, shrugging as he proceeded off the arena.

"Hold it right there. You couldn't be more wrong, gray elf," a mellow voice announced from the crowd.

The spectators parted for Vatryn to lay eyes on a sharply dress nobleman, clad in pristine clothes and a pompous hat with a feather.

"_It's Silgrat_," a voice whispered out loud.

"_That knight guy?_" another questioned.

"Yes, yes… it is I, Sir Silgrat," the nobleman answered, bowing out with his arm extend and chin to chest.

"Funny seeing you here, Sir Silgrat," the bookie said, approaching between Vatryn and Silgrat. "You've always claimed such fights were a primitive diversion for commoners."

"A true knight duels another in the exquisite company of ladies and real gentleman," Silgrat replied. His eyes leered at Vatryn as he spoke, discomforting Vatryn.

"Oh, aye," the bookie said, nodding with a smile. "I'll never forget the great achievements of Seltkrik in the tourneys."

"Indeed, my brother proved his greatness on many occasions," Silgrat sighed. "Alas, it seems the world has gone to the dogs and a knight must challenge commoners to prove his bravery. But this gray elf here intrigues me..."

"Intrigues how?" Vatryn questioned, waiting for an inevitable racist remark.

"Your warring mastery," Silgrat replied. "Though satisfactory, it is clearly leagues above what any elf is capable of. Of course, once you drop to the ground at my feet, you'll realize how woefully unmatched you are."

Vatryn smirked at the nobleman's taunt, sizing up close to his face. "Is that so?"

"Quite so," Silgrat responded, closing in as well. "Two sacks of gold will be the wager. And believe me, Silgrat doesn't challenge any old serf even for but a sliver of gold!"

"Then by all means 'good knight'," Vatryn stressed as he bowed towards his corner of the arena. "Show me and everyone here how much better you are. I'm sure someone of your caliber is more than enough handle me."

"Hmph, do not think I'll let slip by that tone of yours," Silgrat argued, approaching in the arena. "All will know me as Silgrat, every elf's worst nightmare."

"Are you that scared of elves?" Vatryn questioned as he entered his fighting stance.

"Hardly," Silgrat replied, doing the same. "I don't care where you're from but an elf could never match up to someone like me. In fact, I'll prove it right now. Hit me."

"Are you serious?" Vatryn questioned.

"Certainly. Go on, hit me."

Vatryn sneered at the man's contempt, the way he boasted of himself. Did he not see what Vatryn had done? And with the racist undertone, he was asking to be humiliated.

Of course, Vatryn had to be careful about his power lest he kills the man on accident. He took a deep breath in, curling his hands for his attack.

A swing followed out, flying straight for Silgrat's face. But its reduced speed allowed the nobleman to dodge with ease. Vatryn's brain seemingly skipped a moment as he saw a counter from Silgrat landing square in his nose.

His head reeled back and a force planted underneath his chin, toppling the Dunmer over. Vatryn looked up at the ceiling in a daze, his face was blank to what just happened.

"What did I tell you, elf? You're no match for me," Silgrat said, overlooking Vatryn with a coy grin. "You're lucky I don't attack opponents while they're on the ground. Now stand up so that I may trounce you even more."

Vatryn narrowed his eyes as he kipped up into a stance. He began to circle around the nobleman and Silgrat did the same. For all his bravado, Vatryn was still surprised by the skill the man possessed compared to the other fighters. For him to dodge one of Vatryn's slower punches was amazing in its own right.

His thoughts came to end when his body jerked back on its own, narrowly missing a punch from Silgrat. Silgrat pressed his advance, swinging left and right as Vatryn dodged each punch. A growl escaped from Silgrat as he grappled onto Vatryn.

Vatryn responded in kind with a shove. But Silgrat's grip proved more tenacious, ripping a large swath across Vatryn's shirt. The rest fell off to the wayside, leaving all in awe.

"Finally getting serious?" Silgrat asked as he stood up. "Well, then you best prepare yourself. I haven't unleashed my full fury."

The nobleman readied himself, his legs dancing in place. Yet Vatryn made no recourse to fight back. Instead, he took a moment to look down at his chest and then to a tattered piece of cloth in hand.

"You… tore my shirt," Vatryn stated.

"That revolting thing? Of course, someone of your stature would care about something so simple," Silgrat replied, releasing forward a punch.

Vatryn gave a deadpan look at the punch, his body still in motion. In what seemed like magic, the fight paused dead center in the arena. The calm collected face of Silgrat stood in a daze and the crowd stopped their incessant cheering to gawk in wonder and fright. For Vatryn's palm had fully enclosed and stopped Silgrat's punch.

"H-how-"

_Crack!_

Agony exploded out from Silgrat, the crunch of bone escaping from his hand. Shortness of breath followed through, his lungs panting as he fell to the floor.

"You… tore… my… shirt," Vatryn said.

The Dunmer began to tighten his grip as the sound of bone weaned loud enough for the crowd to flinch away.

"Argh, stop, stop!" Silgrat panted. "You're- you're- breaking… it,"

"Calm down you big baby," Vatryn replied. "I haven't broken anything. And as a knight, surely you'd understand that this is hardly the worst pain you had. See if I twist your wrist right here I'll-"

"That's quite… quite enough!" Silgrat said, wincing as he grabbed Vatryn's arm. "I- I- give. I forfeit."

"Not until I say some things," Vatryn replied, locking his grip further for Silgrat's undivided attention. "Firstly, you've been very annoying to me. I came here to have some good fights, let off a bit of steam. But your pompous ass is making it really hard for me to hold back."

"Don't be… ridiculous," SIlgrat said as he breathed in and out with such exhaust. "I had you on the ropes."

Vatryn rolled his eyes and sighed. With a thud, he released the nobleman to the floor and grabbed him by the tunic. A couple of awes and gasps sounded off in the tavern as they witnessed Vatryn lift Silgrat almost like a cat by the scruff.

"Had me on the ropes now did you?" Vatryn asked.

Silgrat gave no response to the Dunmer, his eyes widened so far that even pupils seem to gorge out in veins. His head slowly turned all directions that he could though most of it focused on Vatryn. The humiliation of defeat had broken his spirit and with a solemn shake of his head, Vatryn released the nobleman down on all fours.

"That settles it then," Vatryn said, "Right, bookie?"

"_Finish me,_" Silgrat whispered, perking Vatryn's attention. The nobleman crawled on his knees, inching closer to Vatryn. His arms reached out but his head still hung low to the ground. "_Do it._"

"No," Vatryn stated and took a long step back. "I'm not going to kill you over a fistfight and more importantly there's no reason for you to be suicidal just because you lost a fight."

"You don't understand!" Silgrat responded, slamming his fists into the ground. "My reputation is ruined… my honor is gone."

"So what?" Vatryn shrugged.

"So what?" Silgrat shot back. "I am a knight and- hey-"

Silgrat struggled as Vatryn pulled and dragged the nobleman out of the arena, walking out with a wave to the crowd. With all his strength, the nobleman tried to wrestle from Vatryn's grip but to only lose balance as his body was planted against the wall.

"Alright, listen here asshole," Vatryn began, kneeling face to face with Silgrat. "I beat you fair and square, end of story. If you want to cry and bitch about it then go ahead. Maybe next time you won't be such an ass or racist for that matter."

"You'll pay for this elf. I swear it," Silgrat snarled. "I won't forget the humility you've shamed upon me."

"Speaking of humility, I find myself in… how should I say… an awkward circumstance. You, ha, ripped my shirt," Vatryn grinned, barring out all of his teeth. A small chuckle briefly escaped between them as looked down upon Silgrat. "And unfortunately, that was my only pair."

The grin Vatryn presented opened even further, his silver eyes shined off into SIlgrat's and the nobleman sulked lowered into the floor.

"Um… why are you looking at me like that?" he said.

* * *

Gloomy clouds of black and gray scattered over the quaint town of Vergen. Scattered rain fell into a mist, eerily bringing a fog meant for specters and ghouls. Combined that with a siege and it was no wonder that the streets were baren of any life. And any sort of people still walking out was quick to hurry to the comfort of indoors.

Though disconcerting to many, it was fine by the standards of one Dunmer as he currently ascended to a higher elevation. There the dwarves from the tavern waited at the top, sharpening their axes and discussing crude topics.

Cecil was first to greet him. "You've finally arrived, Master Vatryn."

"And about time you did," Yarpen added, striding up to Vatryn. "If I had to listen to one more of Sheldon's musings, I was gonna go back and drag you out of the tavern myself. What took you so long?"

"Just, uh… a couple of games, that's all," Vatryn replied, turning his head to look over the town. "And… if you happen to hear about some knight wanting his shirt back, I was playing… dice and nowhere near such an incident."

Vatryn coughed in his palm and the dwarves exchanged looks between each other, rolling their eyes. The Dunmer's cheeks swelled with a slight pink hue, whistling a tune with his head held high.

"So, you say," Cecil said, "Open the shaft, Skaggs."

The dark eery vision of the mine that filled Vatryn's eyes would have convinced him that he was back in Morrowind. The bloodstains on the floor, fallen carts of metals, and pieces of limbs scattered over the place from fleeing survivors. In all earnest, he'd feel right at home were it nor for a group of dwarves chatting constantly in innuendo. Well, just the one.

"So gray elf, you wet your wick recently?" Sheldon asked, breaking Vatryn's mind back to reality.

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Vatryn answered. "More importantly, be quiet. We don't need the monsters to here us right now."

"Ah, don't listen to Sheldon, gray one," Yarpen said, "He's been jabbering about getting his fuck on ever since we left the tavern."

"I hardly talked at all," Sheldon said, "Besides, you're the one that asked for help what with you getting your prick out for every lass that you fancy."

"I just asked if you opened the shaft," Yarpen said.

A moan verberated all of a sudden, turning all explorers to a small wooden door creaking. It mixed with a growling sound and warning to all to prepare.

"Hear that?" Sheldon asked.

Vatryn silenced the dwarf with a loud shush. "_Yes, and I would appreciate it if you could be quiet. Please,_" he whispered.

Vatryn signaled for the dwarves to stay back and crept up against the door. Its wooden frame creaked as he slightly opened it and peered beyond. Nothing but pitch black.

"_Looks like we'll need an edge,_" Vatryn whispered. Another search of his pouches began, wading through the assorted items. The darkness made it a bit harder to find until finally, he grabbed a small vial from his belt and presented it to Yarpen.

"Drink this," he commanded.

"I'm not drinking whatever concoction you made," Yarpen replied, pushing the vial back into Vatryn's chest.

"It's not poison I swear," Vatryn said, uncorking the vial. He sipped of the contents and held it out for the dwarves to see. "There's no light in further in and carrying a torch around will limit our fighting abilities. This potion will help us see in the dark like a cat, only with greater strength."

"And how do you know it'll work on us?" Sheldon asked.

"Because I already gave a potion to a dwarf before and I pretty certain that dwarves only difference is cultural, not physiological," Vatryn replied. He reached again to his pouch for a healing potion. "Here, if it doesn't work or cause something really terrible, then drink this. It'll heal you, that is a fact."

"If you say so, Master Vatryn," Cecil chimed in.

The others observed as the alderman sipped a sliver of the drink. He smacked his lips for a bit, then puckered for a second.

"Well... how is it?" Yarpen asked.

Cecil's eyes rapidly blinked. He held his hand out in front, moving it over to a dark corner of the mine. "It works all right. I can see there's a pickaxe over there," he said.

"Where?" Yarpen asked, squinting.

"You have to drink it to see," Cecil said, handing the vial off.

One by one, each one sipped the vial empty and each widened their eyes in amazement of their new abilities.

"Good, very good," Sheldon said, "Now we'll be able to see the buggers. But uh… just a question, this isn't permanent is it?"

Vatryn shook his head. "It'll last for about an hour. Plenty of time for us to clear out the mine and find the immortelle."

Vatryn led the dwarves beyond the door. Their eyes could clearly see the far reaches of the walls and ceiling in a bright gray hue. They stepped forward, weapons at the ready when the moans and wails entered back into their ears, louder and closer.

Out from behind the various walls emerged several rotting flesh creatures screaming their incessant noise. There was no time to see them in whole as the creatures immediately charged at the group.

"Let's go, lads," Yarpen said, leading ahead with the dwarves.

With swift strikes, the dwarves swiped their axes low to the creatures' legs. Their strength was a sight to behold, lopping the legs in one swing. The creatures all fell to the ground, screeching loudly as they flapped around in a rage.

Yet in that rage, Vatryn noticed something strange going on with the creatures. He thought his eyes deceived him but the creatures suddenly began to expand out their bodies. Expanding so much that they couldn't contain. Vatryn's body ran as fast as he could, barreling into the dwarves and flinging them away in seconds.

The creatures exploded into a red cloud. The combined blast of them all knocked Vatryn to the ground, a discernable grunt yelled as he crashed.

"Gray one? You all right?" Sheldon asked.

The dwarves rushed to the fallen Dunmer, who didn't seem that worse for wear. His hands covered over his hands, hissing in pain but not enough that it seemed serious. With his free hand, Vatryn pointed to his left pouch.

"I'm okay mostly. Could you pull out a vial of water from my pockets?" Vatryn asked, his hands still hovering over his eyes.

Cecil was quick to hand him the potion and clasp his hand, pulling him up. Vatryn emptied the water over his eyes and sighed relief. "Thanks, Cecil," he said.

"I should be thanking you," Cecil noddingly said, "I could barely see what happened but that explosion looked deadly. I'm surprised you're barely hurt."

"And your speed is something I've never seen before," Yarpen commented. "How'd you move that fast?"

"I trained a lot running and I'm pretty strong in the legs too," Vatryn replied, pointing to his legs. "Though I have to wonder what kind of creature was that?"

"You don't know?" Yarpen asked.

"Why would I?" Vatryn shrugged.

"You pushed us out of the way 'fore they exploded. Why else would you have done that?" Sheldon inquired.

Vatryn chuckled at the question. "Truthfully, I did so out of instinct. Their bodies were expanding beyond what seemed normal and so I thought they were going to pop. I mean how silly would it have been if they barely did anything. Ha, ha, ha...ha...ha."

The dwarves were perplexed as to what the Dunmer revealed. The joke he insisted didn't garner any support from them either, looking back at Vatryn with their brows raised and coughing ignorance.

Vatryn replaced his dying chuckles with a cough and spoke. "Anyways, we should be more careful from now on. Try attacking them from a distance and backing away when we kill them," he said. Hums escaped from Vatryn as his attention turned to the dead creatures' corpses.

"Something on your mind?" Cecil asked.

"These creatures… you said they showed up in the mines a while back. And it's obvious they came from here otherwise you'd know what we would be facing. But the question is how?"

"So you're saying they came from the mine? Like these creatures have been living down below?" Sheldon asked.

"Most likely," Vatryn answered. "In my experience, monsters in caves, or mines either come from the outside or from underground. And since no one saw these creatures walking through town, its safe to assume the latter. Which would mean that there should be some entrances where they're coming out of."

Sheldon then elated in cheer, tumbling down into his coat and pulling out small spheres. "It's a good thing I brought these."

"Dammit, Sheldon! Are you trying to kill us all?" Yarpen yelled, quickly grabbing the spheres from Sheldon.

"We said we were gonna clear them out of the mines, didn't we?" Sheldon asked, presenting out another set of balls.

"Hold on, what are you two talking about? What did Sheldon bring?" Vatryn asked as he stepped between the two dwarves before they could argue further.

"He almost brought this entire place down on us, that's what he brought," Yarpen answered as he presented the balls to the group. "These are mining charges and they're very flammable and very easy to set off."

Upon his words, the whole group sans Yarpen and Sheldon backed away with a large step.

"Probably best if they stayed away from the guy with a fire sword," Vatryn raised, taking a few more extra steps. "On the sidenote, perhaps Sheldon's blunder is an answer to our problems. We could use those charges to blow up any places those creatures are coming from."

"Didn't you hear me tell you gray one that these charges can collapse this entire mine on us?" Yarpen questioned.

"Well, do you mean individually or together? Because there is a difference," Vatryn said, "If it's the former, then we can set off a charge at each point of entry of these creatures."

"I… well, no…" Yarpen replied. "But these charges are still volatile when together."

"How many do you have?" Vatryn asked.

"Five."

"Then it's a good thing I have three trusty warriors here," Vatryn said, "Each of you takes two charges(_Yarpen, three_) while we go further in. I'll lead ahead just in case those creatures don't cause the charges to explode."

"Sounds like a plan," Cecil spoke up as he took a charge from Yarpen.

"Eh… it sounds like I'll have to stay back and watch you fight, gray one," Sheldon remarked in displeasure.

"Would you rather take the chance you'll blow up killing one of those things?" Vatryn asked.

Sheldon looked up at the Dunmer, glancing back between him and one of the creature's corpses and pondering his choice. "Fair point," he said, taking his share from Yarpen.

Yarpen though shook his head vehemently and sighed. "You owe me a drink Sheldon," he said as he entered the charge into his pocket. "All right, gray one. Lead the way."

Vatryn lead the party down further into the depths of the mine. Acting so to say as the spearhead of the group, the Dunmer charged straight first into any of creatures they encountered. The loud sounds they echoed made it easy for them to find through it gave them no chance for sneak attacks. And upon their defeats, the group found their first objective.

"I think I see where they're coming from," Vatryn said, pointing out ahead of the hall.

The ceiling of the mine lowered with each step they took towards the end of the hall. A large gaping hole was presented in full. The depth of it was so deep that even with their night vision, no one in the group could see towards the bottom.

"You sure they came up from here?" Sheldon asked, leaning deep into the hole.

"Why else would there BE a hole," Vatryn sternly replied, pulling the dwarf away. "So, how do we set off these charges?"

Yarpen approached forward and held out one of the charges. "Let me show you," he said.

He made a few sounds to the others, indicating they back up. The ball he then rested on the side of the hole and began to strike a flint at it. Sparks shot out as it began to burn onto the charge and Yarpen rushed back to the group.

"Don't stand too close," Yarpen chided the others to run to the far end of the hall.

In seconds, they hunkered behind the walls for the explosion. The sizzling sparks became quieter with each second until an eery quiet beset the group.

The sound shattered into their eardrums echoing all around them. The force of the blast could be felt even through the walls as they were all slightly knocked to their feet.

"Damn, you weren't kidding about those charges," Vatryn said, rising and helping Cecil to their feet. "What's in those things?"

"Let me think," Yarpen hummed. "Zerrikanian powder I believe."

"And that is made of…?" Vatryn questioned.

"I don't know. I'm not an alchemist," Yarpen shrugged. "I just know it works and how to use it."

The group looked back down towards the hall to see that the hole was no longer there along with about half of the hall itself. Along with no other sounds of crumbling rock that might have accompanied such an explosion.

With the plan firmly established the group continued on through their expedition deeper into the mine. Each time they encountered the creatures, they perused around for any holes and set off a charge. And on the pattern repeated until finally, they exhausted their charges and wailing sound of the creatures had ceased to be.

"Is that all of them?" Sheldon asked.

"I can't hear them anymore. Not even a faint echo," Vatryn stated as he leaned against a wall. "And we've run around in every direction I believe except for there."

The Dunmer pointed to a long hall where the natural workings of the mine replaced the built-in structure of other parts of the mine. The most likely location of the immortelle, their second objective.

The space of the hall was very cramped for Vatryn as he had to bend down to the dwarves' height. Droplets of water echoed the further they traveled until they crawled under a narrow ceiling. A light shone brightly far off where they saw the water and the only path to travel next.

"How is there light here?" Vatryn asked, grumbling as he stood out from his crawl through the hall.

"We're not that far underground," Yarpen said, rolling his eyes.

"Sure, feels like it," Vatryn said, following down the path. "Well then gentleman, this wasn't my pleasant quest but I can say that- and there's a monster down here."

Yarpen sighed in slight annoyance, descending alone as Cecil and Sheldon exchanged glances.

"We get it, you're funny," Yarpen said, parading his hands. "You don't have to- oh shit, there is a monster!"

The exclaims of the dwarf hurried Sheldon and Cecil down the path to lay their eyes on what Yarpen saw. A large heap of muscle bared tall before them. It's body contained by a sack of elastic skin. The monster had a head of a buffalo, with horns and vestigial hands growing out of its body.

"So then Sheldon, guess you get your chance to fight after all," Vatryn said as he swung out Trueflame in a spin.

With a loud roar, the creature bared out its sharp teeth and stomped in a charge towards the group. But it was not alone as more of the previous creatures ascended from the ground and followed forth.

A cheering shout erupted from the dwarves, charging ahead of Vatryn towards the large creature and catching its attention. Imperatively, Vatryn flanked around and engaged towards the smaller ones.

With ease, he cut through one with a strike yet it caused something interesting. Unlike before, Vatryn was met with a fiery explosion to the face and blinded from the inferno. His night vision did nothing but exacerbate further, overloading his entire eyes with a white flash as he flung to the ground. The Dunmer screamed in agony, a call to his allies for help.

"Gray one!" Yarpen called.

Yarpen rushed to pick up Vatryn to his feet, narrowly dodging a strike from the large creature in the process. "You all right?" he asked the Dunmer.

"No, I can't see anything but white!" Vatryn exclaimed.

The roar of the large creature bellowed again as Vatryn spoke, muting his words. A long swipe of its appendage smacked Cecil and Sheldon away, luring Vatryn and Yarpen's attention. The thuds of its feet barreled forward into the ground, pushing aside Yarpen and slamming Vatryn into the wall.

The force of the creature impacted Vatryn greatly, pressuring deep into his chest. Vatryn could hardly see the creature through the white, just an outline of its massive head. The stench of its breath reeked, burning his nostrils.

"Get off!" Vatryn roared with a swing to the creature's head.

To the surprise of the dwarves, such a swing stumbled the creature to the ground as it loudly hollered. Within seconds, Vatryn leaped high above and stomped hard onto the creature. He followed up brutal slashes from a dagger, repeatedly stabbing the creature.

But what surprised them the most was the strength displayed forth as Vatryn grabbed the creature's head, tore off a horn and stabbing it straight into its skull. And with it died down its last scream as their night vision dissipated back into darkness.

Vatryn panted heavily back and forth, his eyes still fixated on the creature. He glanced back to the dwarves, still shocked for words, and stared in silence.

Sheldon approached forward, his eyes still locked on Vatryn despite the lack of light. Here another was, Vatryn thought, that would call him out for some supposed monstrosity or perhaps mistrust and fear. Yet that was not to be as the dwarf raised his fist high and presenting a smiling beard from the light.

"That was fucking awesome!"


	13. The Other Side Of The Mist

**Chapter 13: The Other Side Of The Mist**

Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scroll Series or the Witcher Series

The Elder Scrolls belong to Bethesda and the Witcher belongs to Andrzej Sapkowski.

**The chapter contains original and paraphrased dialogue from the Witcher 2**

**A/N: **Hello everyone it's been a while. I know you've been eagerly awaiting the next chapters but before you go in, I have a confession to tell. I actually never played the Witcher 2 when I started writing this story. I only saw walkthroughs and knew the plot from playing the Witcher 3. So I haven't written anything because I had to go and play through the entirety of the Witcher 2 on Steam and it took a while. But then other things came up like my dog getting sick, pc troubles, and my other fic that I couldn't get back to this. To make up for it, I am releasing three, yes three chapters for you to read since you've been so patient. Now I hope you enjoy them.

* * *

The situation in Aedirn was as tense, if not more so than Temeria, that much the Witcher could tell. Yet, even so, it felt as though he had jumped from the frying pan and into the flames. On one side, the town of Vergen. And on the other, the Kaedweni encampment where Henselt and his army rested. As the hands of time ever strung forward, it was but a matter of time before this entire valley would be drenched in blood and despair.

Honestly, Geralt really couldn't give a damn. This entire battle, the whole political intrigue; it was stupid and pointless. A waste of lives that wouldn't do anything more than suffering. But as life has it, forces beyond his control would make him involved in these pivotal events. And the first thing he'd have to do? Hope the Kaedwini guards wouldn't pump him full of bolts.

"Stay where you are, mutant!" one of the Kaedwini guards ordered.

Geralt had raised his hands to deter their twitchy movements but to no avail. Roche then quickly interceded before the witcher.

"What's with you, Zyvik?" Roche questioned the guard with the crossbow in front. "Booze made you batty? Don't you recognize me?"

"I'll be plowed and damned!" Zyvik replied. "Why the hell did you bring him here, Roche?"

"He's a witcher…" Roche said, going on to explain Geralt's situation.

As he did so, something else caught Geralt's interest. The sky above him looked to darken in its hue despite how early in the morning it was. Clouds began to recede in as well, as if from nowhere. Something was wrong?

The medallion confirmed the Witcher's suspicion, shaking fervently over his neck. It came from behind, where the town of Vergen lied and he veered around to observe.

"Hey, don't you move, kingslayer," Zyvik ordered.

Geralt paid him no heed, only towards what he saw off in the distance. Misty clouds of a greenish-blue puffed up above rocks in the distance. With his enhanced hearing, Geralt could hear the cries of agonizing moans and screams of living beings.

"Didn't you hear me, mutant? Don't even twitch or I'll-"

A gust of wind barreled between the guards and Roche and Geralt. The Witcher heard the losing of sinew, bolts flying off away as he looked to where the wind was. In its place, a giant portal and its swirling energy ejected out three individuals, each of them running out in a hurry.

Two the Witcher did not recognize. One a crowned man, with a purple collar of cloth over armor, emblazoned with unicorn markings. King Henselt, Geralt deduced. The other an older man in blue mage robes, various bottles hanging around his waist. The Witcher had no idea who that mage was but the third widened his eyes for a moment, as it was none other Sile. The sorceress too looked agape with surprise, subsiding just as quick as the Witcher.

"What the hell was that?" Henselt asked in a fury. "Sile, Dethmold, I-"

As soon as Henselt laid eyes on Geralt, fear took hold of the man as he quickly jumped behind an older man in robes.

"You idiots!" Henselt yelled. "Corporal? Why is the kingslayer here!?"

"We were just about to capture him, your Majesty," Zyvik stammered as he reached for his sword alongside several more soldiers that exited from the encampment walls.

"_Just perfect,_" Geralt muttered.

From the crossbows to the two mages, Sile among them of all people, Geralt couldn't fight his way out of this one even with Roche's support. And talking didn't seem like an option as well. Thus the Witcher did the only thing he could and raised his arms.

"Alright, don't shoot," Geralt said. "I surrender. But I'm no murderer."

"I can vouch for the Witcher, sire," Roche stepped forth. "He did not slay Foltest."

"Silence," Henselt said. "I have enough to deal with as is and the last thing I need is to deal with both the kingslayer and whatever that gray monstrosity was."

"Gray monstrosity?" Roche asked.

"A thing or whatever it was," Henselt waved off. "Were it not for its elf ears, I'd be more worried about it."

"_Elf ears? Gray?_" Geralt muttered, putting two and two together before it clicked. "Wait, you mean Vatryn?"

Blurting out Vatryn's name was an idiotic move on Geralt's part, too late dawning on the Witcher as all attention landed squarely on him. The kind that ended in torture.

"You know who I speak of?" Henselt asked in a demanding tone.

Geralt hesitated to say more, unsure of what Henselt would do if he expanded on further. Confirming might further place suspicion on the Witcher. Or… perhaps it might absolve him? Yet before he could answer, Roche interceded on his behalf.

"We encountered him before," Roche said. "He attacked me and fled off with Iorveth's Scoia'tael, who we believe to be in this area."

"Iorveth, here?" Henselt questioned. "What does that damn elf want?"

"Working with the kingslayer," Roche replied. "The real one. As I said, Geralt here didn't murder any kings."

"A likely coincidence, your Majesty," the older man in blue robes said, huffing with a flair of arrogance that a mage would possess. "In these uncertain times, we can't know who to trust."

Henselt scoffed. "Rather a soldier than a mage I would trust."

Processing from when Henselt spoke with them and sounding like the man Triss had spoken to back in Flotsam, Geralt deduced the older man to be Dethmold. And already Geralt knew that they weren't going to get along. That is if he would still live after this.

Henselt ponced a look, a king thinking on his options. He glared towards the Witcher, his eyes observing the entirety of his figure. No doubt weighing whether Geralt posed any threat to him or as a resource as most of the noble class did. He pondered left and right and finally spoke of his decision.

"Corporal, relieve the witcher of his weapons and have him bound," Henselt said to Zyvik. "Watch him closely at all times, then bring him to my tent. I'll decide his fate then."

"Yes, your Majesty," Zyvik nodded, waving over for soldiers to bring in rope.

"But first I must speak with my mages on the matter of this mist," Henselt said, directing over to the mages. "I'll tolerate no delays on this matter. And summon all my company commanders as well."

"Immediately, your Majesty," Dethmold eagerly nodded while Sile tacitly did the same.

"Sire," Roche interjected, "I must request an audience."

"Later. I must deal with my mages, then the witcher," Henselt replied.

With that, the king left with his mages in tow and leaving Geralt at the mercy of the soldiers. Roche gave a solemn glance to Geralt, mouthing out an apology as the soldiers bounded the witcher and removed his gear. Leaving Geralt once again to ponder why his life was so shitty.

* * *

After what seemed to be an eternity of taunts and several blows to the chest, Geralt was finally brought towards the king's tent. Yet before he could meet to decide his fate, another player of the game that was politics stood in his way. The Nilfgaardian ambassador, Shilard, who Geralt met during the siege of La Valette castle. Waiting alongside an escort of Nilfgaardian soldiers.

"A moment of your time, soldiers," Ambassador Shilard called, "but I must speak with the witcher."

"We's s'posed to bring the witcher to the king," one of the soldiers replied.

"It will only be just for a moment," Shilard said. "As a guest of King Henselt, would you so deny a simple request?"

"Well…" one of the soldiers paused, wearily looking to the other soldier and precariously to the Nilfgaardians. "Alright, fine. But only for a bit."

"I won't be long," Ambassador Shilard said, passing out a weak smile to the soldiers as they left. Then turning towards Geralt, it disappeared without a trace, foretelling the conversation. "Nearly everyone hunts you, yet you live in spite of it all. Impressive."

Geralt scoffed. "Depending on how my meeting with the king will go, I doubt you'll think that for long."

"Of anyone else, I would," Ambassador Shilard replied, brushing off his chin. "But I have never met anyone quite as talented as surviving as you. Considering the rumors I've taken the liberty of checking on. I'll say it again - impressive. Are you perhaps seeking unemployment?"

"My aim here is different," Geralt said, brushing off the last comment.

"Really?" Ambassador Shilard asked. "Perhaps I can be of assistance?"

"Not unless you can free me," Geralt answered, holding up his bound hands to which the ambassador shook his head. "Then not to be rude, your Excellency, I don't see why we're speaking."

"Clarification," the ambassador raised. "With the death of two monarchs, the Northern kingdoms are in great instability. And with so many rumors abound, it can be hard to investigate with the realms in such a state."

"Surely, you have spies to inform you," Geralt said.

"As ambassador to his Imperial Majesty, I must be well informed of all things, not just politics," the ambassador replied. "For example, the existence of a gray elf."

"Gray elf?" Geralt asked, trying to hide his knowledge with a raised brow and oblivious tone.

"At first a simple rumor but apparently word has begun to spread in Temeria of this individual. A dark-skinned elf, who dispensed of bandits and monsters, saving both humans and elves with his incredible power. Many who say, dangerously so even among the Temerian nobles. I wonder about what such a person could accomplish with such abilities?"

"Perhaps you could be a bit clearer, your Excellency."

"Then I'll be direct," the ambassador said, narrowing his eyes. "Do you know anything about this dark elf?"

"Why would I know?" Geralt asked, shrugging.

"The abilities of this elf have been described as that of a witcher. A warrior skilled in both combat and magic. I wonder if it's a strange coincidence for you and this individual to be in Temeria at the same time."

"Even if this elf were a witcher, that doesn't mean I know of them. Witchers don't exactly get together every year for the holidays."

"I wasn't accusing that you know," Ambassador Shilard shook his head. "I merely said it makes me wonder."

The ambassador veered his head, looking behind Geralt as the soldiers from before came to return.

"It seems our time is up," Ambassador Shilard said as the Kaedweni soldiers grabbed Geralt. "Good luck with your meeting witcher."

* * *

Brought forth to his knees, Geralt had a clear view of the four knights surrounding him in Henselt's tent. Their hearts beat with a vigor to fight, eyes locked on Geralt to so much as twitch for an excuse to let loose.

"Bring him up," Henselt said.

With a heave, Geralt was lifted to stand face to face with the king. A bandaged cloth wrapped over his bald head, still stinging from what caused it as the witcher noticed his eye slightly twitched.

"Now then," Henselt said, standing intimidating as he could be. "What do you seek here, Geralt of Rivia?"

"Peace and quiet, Sire," Geralt replied as he had repeated too many others. "I've been framed and need to clear my name. Though I tend not to meddle in politics, this time I believe I have no choice."

"Mhm…" Henselt hummed. The king's eyes narrowed on the Witcher, observing. "You must answer quickly and unequivocally. You must be clear, witcher. I'm in no mood for excuses, hiding behind professional codes, and trade secrets. And if I think you're lying, I'll have you executed on the spot."

Geralt nodded in silence.

"Did you kill Foltest?" Henselt continued.

"No," Geralt answered.

"Do you know who did?"

"A witcher named Letho."

"Do ya know each other?" Henselt asked with intrigue.

"I don't know, I have amnesia," Geralt replied as he glanced down. "Letho has suggested he knows something about me. It's possible we met before."

"There's an old Kaedweni saying, you know - a bitch will never bite another bitch. A hundred percent accurate where sorceresses are concerned. De Tansarville claims a Letho is in this area. Is this the same one you speak and is it true?"

"It is," Geralt replied.

"What does he want here?" Henselt asked in quick succession. "My head?"

"He's hiding from Iorveth and his Scoia'tael. I don't know his plans."

"And you aim to get him?" Henselt asked.

"I do," Geralt nodded.

"Last question," Henselt said, now completely focused on Geralt's eyes. "Do you know who Foltest and Demavend assassinated? Who's behind the kingslayers?"

"I don't know," Geralt answered, shaking his head. "But if I find Letho, then I'll find out."

Henselt merely hummed at Geralt's answer. He pondered away, stepping back then forth to the witcher while he continued to glare. The seconds turned into minutes then hours, a decision that would decide Geralt's fate. And Geralt was relegated as a bystander. If it was going to come to it, then he'd make sure his fate would be in his hands.

Geralt's fists began to bawl, ready to fight out when at last Henselt said the words.

"Let him go."

Quickly, Geralt released his hands back to rest. Once again he had dodged a grim fate yet again, destiny rescuing him.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Henselt chided to the knights, who had disappointment written over the expressions as they unbound Geralt. "Now get out, all of you. I wish to speak with the witcher alone."

"But, your Majesty-..." one of the knights protested.

"Do not make me repeat myself," Henselt said. "And give the witcher back his belongings once we're done."

"Yes, your Majesty," the knight answered, bowing with the others as they then left.

Geralt couldn't help but smirk at the knights as they left. Their loss of the privilege of killing a witcher no doubt struck a blow to their pride. He would thank Henselt though that would be admitting freeing him was a gesture of kindness and not of necessity. Instead… a question.

"You believe me, Sire?" Geralt asked.

"I suppose I must since my spies have confirmed your words," Henselt answered. "Though not everything it seems. That gray thing I saw, with the elf ears. Do you know what that is?"

"The gray 'thing'," Geralt stressed on that last word, "says he's an elf. A Dark Elf."

"Dark Elf?" Henselt questioned with bewilderment. "What is that? Some magic shit the elves have come up?"

"Well… no," Geralt replied. Scratching his head for an answer, the witcher was unsure how to answer correctly. "Just an elf with dark skin. His name is Vatryn and he says he's not from the Continent so perhaps he's a distant cousin to the elves here."

"What is he here for then, with Iorveth no less?" Henselt asked.

The witcher had to be careful with his answer. Revealing more information on Vatryn would put Geralt back into a suspicious territory and his wrists didn't feel like getting close again.

"Working with him, I suppose," Geralt said with his usual inexpressive face. "I don't know much about the dark elf other than the fact he took down several armed men with just his fists."

"You witnessed this?"

"I did. And he also gave Roche that scar of his," Geralt said, pointing to his right cheek. "Honestly, from just seeing him once, his skills seem comparable to that of a witcher. Perhaps even higher."

"An elf stronger than a witcher," Henselt repeated, a shiver of fear escaping under his tongue. "With the mists and the wraiths, my campaign could be ruined."

An opportunity to get on Henselt's side arose. Staying at Foltest's court had rubbed off some political intrigue to the witcher.

"If I may, your Majesty," Geralt interjected, "but I believe I can help you with one of your problems. Mists and wraiths - it sounds like a curse. One of a witcher's specialties."

"Finally, an answer I've been waiting for," Henselt said, raising an arm in ovation. "My mages have been useless, blathering on with nothing to show for. Lift the curse, and you'll learn the meaning of royal generosity. And even should you fail to catch this Letho, I shall help you clear your name."

A promise Geralt surmised wouldn't hold.

"And consider Dethmold at your disposal," Henselt added. "He'll give you all the necessary information. Also, you are free to move about the camp and its environs from now on."

Geralt nodded a silent thanks. "Then before I go, I need to ask you about the curse."

* * *

After exiting the tent and retrieving back his gear, it dawned on Geralt. So far, his journey wasn't turning out as bad as he had thought. For the moment, he wasn't being hunted or currently being executed. And while the whole business of a curse didn't excite him, at the very least it was Witcher's work. If his luck held, then he might also find a lead on Letho and Triss all while receiving a reward.

"Perhaps a bit too optimistic there," Geralt muttered to himself as before he could do anything, he needed to speak with Dethmold.

Already, Henselt has told the witcher much of the curse. How it was cast three years ago by the king's former advisor, Sabrina Glevissig, a sorceress. As punishment for launching fireballs during a war between Henselt and Demavend, killing both Kaedwini and Aedirnian soldiers, she was burned at the stake. In her dying words, she cursed Henselt and his lineage and since then as the king told Geralt, some of it has been fulfilled already. Square coins in particular among traitorous soldiers.

With a solar eclipse, hoards of specters, and a mist, this was a complex curse indeed and Geralt would need all the help he can get. Even if it meant working with Dethmold, who already the witcher couldn't help to trust.

The tent the sorcerer awaited in gave Geralt further credence of who Dethmold was. Fully carpeted and insulated from the weather, exquisite silverware, ornate wooden bookcase, and a fine bed and desk much more exquisite and expensive than even the king's. _Obviously, the place of the most considerate, selfless mage in all the land._

"You have no idea how delighted I am to work in tandem with you," Dethmold first said by stepping very close into Geralt's personal space.

"True," Geralt said as he stepped back a bit, "I have no idea."

Dethmold relented back. "Better times approach, Geralt, you shall see," he said. "I trust you're not bothered if I refer to you by name?"

"Not at all," Geralt replied.

"Wonderful! I feel we shall become great friends…"

The man had put up quite a cheery performance, Geralt could see from his smile barely holding. And friendship? Clearly not with someone acting so over the top with their friendliness.

"I'm not looking for new friends, Dethmold. Let's just get to work."

"I see…" Dethmold replied, his face turning to visible contempt. "As you seem to be the hero, how might I help you... White Wolf?"

"First, I need to know if you've dealt with curses before?" Geralt asked.

"I've cast a few in my time…" Dethmold shrugged with a grin. "Nothing too serious… a burned house here, donkey tail and ears sprouting."

"Yeah… I meant lifting them."

"Never had the chance. But I've mastered the theory involved - best in my class at the magic academy."

"I doubt Ban Ard taught you about curses like this."

"Glevissig's curse is a fourth-level blood spell. It's also known as the 'Arch Mistress's curse'. A misnomer, for they have been cast by generally crazed mages or priests, not necessarily women," Dethmold answered, smugly smiling at the witcher.

The witcher widened his eyes in surprise. "You've done your homework," he replied. "So explain this blood curse to me?"

"An ordinary blood curse is a trivial thing," Dethmold explained. "You let a little of your own blood - best done at midnight, surrounded by lit candles."

"Sabrina had a whole pyre around her," Geralt mused. "Tell me about Glevissig's curse."

"Read about it yourself, I've all the necessary literature" Dethmold pointed to his bookshelf as he listed off the various tomes for Geralt to read.

Figures the mages would want him to 'learn', Geralt thought.

"All right, fine. I'll read them myself," Geralt said, waving him off. "Speaking of… are we sure that Sabrina was the one that cast the curse?"

"Positively. Curses of this kind are cast rarely. There have only been six confirmed cases."

"And how many were lifted?"

"One," Dethmold replied. "By a team of mages led by Arch Mistress Francesca Findabair, whence came the curse's other appellation. In any case, Sabrina Glevissig was part of that team."

"Small world," Geralt commented as he crossed his arms. "And one that just got a little uglier."

"That's not all," the mage remarked. "The curse that Francesca and Sabrina dealt with was meant to end the lives of the last of the Thyssen dynasty, the rulers of Kovir. It was cast by Scarlet Rodallega… A very talented but complete madman. A prophecy and an activator were involved."

"So Sabrina stole the idea from Rodallega," Geralt said in understanding.

"Precisely," Dethmold said, raising a finger. "Besides which, the King himself and a company of armed men witnessed her casting it."

Geralt entered into thought on what he was given so far. The information was good to know but he needed to get to the heart of the curse's workings, not just its origins.

"The specters," Geralt penned the question to the mage, "do you know anything about them? Like if they acted out of the ordinary or anything like that?"

Dethmold eyed the witcher and shook his head. "We left before any of them could attack us, so no."

"Shame," Geralt lamented. "What about the soldiers? Did any of them come back from the mist?"

"I don't know but I doubt any did. You might want to ask around the camp for any survivors… that is if they're still coherent," Dethmold quipped as he chuckled.

Just what Geralt needed, more questions than answers. Of course, getting answers would prove even more difficult. Charging into the mist blindly would be suicidal and Dethmold was right to doubt anyone getting out of there alive. Unless of course, they were very skilled and… powerful.

"Something on your mind?" Dethmold asked.

The witcher blinked for a moment, forgetting who the mage was for a moment. He composed himself back and gave a nod. "Just thinking how I'll need to learn more about this curse," he said as he rubbed his chin. "I can't lift it for now but… I think I can sever Henselt's connection to the curse. It might be a start."

"How could we do that?" Dethmold asked.

"I don't know yet," Geralt said. "But I suspect I could summon Sabrina's ghost and force her to free Henselt. It'll have to do for now so listen up, we'll have work to do."

"Of course… as the King ordered," Dethmold said with a weirdly affable glee.

"All right then," Geralt sighed as he began. "You'll do the paperwork - I get the feeling you'll like that. I'll need a number of protective runes to summon Sabrina's ghost. They'll help detain her ghost and anything else that enters this world with it. They need to be easy to produce so find something in that library of yours."

Dethmold looked inquisitively back to his bookshelf, his head nodding slightly that he understood.

"Apart from that," Geralt continued, "I suspect specters from the mist to search for Henselt. When they do, they'll grow weaker the further they are from the battlefield. Your men should be able to handle them with silver-plated weapons. Henselt could use some silver as well. And at his tent's entrance, hang a wreath of cinquefoil and fool's parsley. Inside, a fire fueled by juniper berries must burn at all times."

"Where will I get so much silver?"

"You can melt your pots for all I care," Geralt pointed to the mage's desk. "Just get it."

"Those aren't pots! They're silver vases of Nazair!" Dethmold whined as a child would.

"Last of all: give Henselt an instructional talk, explain that I'll need him."

"And what will you be doing? Drinking ale and fondling the camp women?" Dethmold asked as he gestured the witcher fondling breasts.

"There's that, yes," Geralt answered with the smugness of a smirk. "But I'll also be preparing to summon Sabrina's ghost and figure out what I need to deal with the specters. I'll drop by and give you more work as I learn more about the curse."

* * *

Geralt began his descent through the Kaedweni camp. It was an organized place that was counteracted by laziness and drunkenness. An arena of some sort to gamble and let loose steam, soldiers sleeping off either from being lazy or drunk. An amalgamation of order and chaos if he ever saw one.

It made no difference to Geralt or if anything, it allowed him some peace for his mind at least. One idea, in particular, crossed back into his mind as he proceeded to the tent where Roche stayed.

Vatryn.

The dark elf was also here and it wracked the witcher's brain ever since he learned of that elf's presence. Just something in Geralt's gut, aura, soul maybe he supposed; Vatryn would just bring trouble. Intentionally or not. Yet there he was, on the other side of the mist.

Which brought up another point. Henselt and the mages saw Vatryn just before the battlefield was engulfed by the curse. And though he didn't know the elf, it would be stupid of Geralt to think he perished within. The Dunmer lets on that he has more power than he's shown. Meaning he witnessed the specters so then perhaps…

No, no. Handling the curse was already complicated enough. Geralt didn't even have any leads to Letho or Triss' whereabouts. Even if he could cross the mist, he'd be walking into enemy territory especially with Iorveth and his Scoia'tael over there. Doubtful they'd let Geralt walk but an inch before shooting him full of arrows.

Then again… Vatryn did seem knowledgeable about quite a few things relating to magic despite being from a different world. Experience in lifting curses back home perhaps? But is it worth the risk?

For that, Geralt would decide on later as he was so caught in his train of thought that he wandered off to the edge of the camp. It was a good thing a soldier wasn't in sight to see how dumb he had looked.

Yet before he could turn back to the camp, the witcher's senses alerted him to the sound of heavy boots encroaching behind. His cat eyes focused under the bright sun upon several men and a mage who held quite a displeasing picture. Was Geralt's nose that big?

"It seems we've come upon a witcher, men," the mage said as he rolled the parchment up and turned to Geralt. "You wouldn't happen to be Geralt of Rivia, would you?"

"What if I am?" Geralt asked.

"It would seem there is a price on your head," the mage answered. The others in the mage's group circled around the witcher as the mage approached forth. "It would be easier for all of us if you came along with us. I would rather avoid any possible bloodshed."

Geralt hadn't the time to talk, there were more important things at hand. He sighed loud enough for the bounty hunters to hear of his annoyance and without a word, cut the mage's throat with a clean swift move.

"All right. Let's get this over with."


	14. A Blood Curse And Some Poison

**Chapter 14: A Blood Curse And Some Poison**

Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scroll Series or the Witcher Series

The Elder Scrolls belong to Bethesda and the Witcher belongs to Andrzej Sapkowski.

**The chapter contains original and paraphrased dialogue from the Witcher 2**

* * *

"Last one."

A snap of the witcher's fingers called forth Igni, burning the half-eaten corpse of a Kaedweni soldier to a crisp. It was the ninth one he had found today and already some part of him wanted to call it quits for the day. First, those bounty hunters, fighting for a soldier's son and now this… a rotfiend contract he took. Though he was unsure why the soldiers couldn't do the contract; the bodies of soldiers were right around the camp and they outnumbered the rotfiends two to one. Then again, coin was coin so Geralt couldn't complain.

"Alright then, time to collect the reward," Geralt said.

As the witcher made way to the camp palisade, the corporal from earlier, Zyvik, waved a hand and gestured to speak.

"Oi, witcher. Out hunting monsters in these wastelands?" Zyvik asked.

"Just about to turn in the contract about the rotfiends," Geralt replied as he opened the door to the camp.

"Well after, if you see two of my men out in the wastes, tell them I'll rip them both brand new arseholes if they miss muster," Zyvik said, raising his voice with rage.

"Why are they out?" Geralt asked.

"It's a common malady," Zyvik explained. "A day doesn't go by that some dimwit doesn't sneak out of the camp to go to the gullies."

More tedious things. No thanks, Geralt had more important things to do than to find some lost soldiers.

"I'm not going to go look for them," Geralt answered as he continued to enter the camp. "They're probably dead anyway."

"Ah… you witchers," Zyvik grunted. "What, coin? Is that what you want?"

The witcher paused. The magic words that stopped any of his group were spoken and regained Geralt's interest. "Well…"

He still didn't want to look for them… but the coin…

"If I come across them, I'll get them back here," Geralt said as a compromise.

"Good then. Find them and you'll see that Corporal Zyvik knows how to be grateful."

Geralt gave a nod of understanding and proceeded off to collect his reward.

* * *

"Huh… well, look at that."

The surrounding wastes of winding paths and rocks meant the soldiers Geralt was asked to look for could have been anywhere. Yet as luck would have it, they were right at Sabrina's old execution site.

The witcher was glad now that he didn't have to waste time searching for them but as he approached, questions arose. Why were they just standing there, praying from the looks of it as they bent over a lit candle? It would seem he would get to ask as the soldiers noticed him approaching and came forth.

"Oy! What are you doing here?" one of the soldiers asked as they two strode up.

"Inspecting the place," Geralt said nonchalantly. "You two should get out of here. I heard Zyvik can't wait for you to get back."

"Plough it all," the soldier answered, quivering in his voice. "If we miss muster, he'll have us flogged."

With a gulp in his throat, the other soldiers turned to the witcher. "Get us out of here, will ye?"

Geralt crossed his arms. "You came here on your own, you can get back on your own."

"T- this place is crawling with drowners though," the soldier replied. "I mean, we'd have stayed in our tents, on our arses, if we'd known. We're safe here in the circle."

Geralt observed back to the shoreline. He hadn't encountered any drowners on his way over but as he heard the soldiers' hearts racing, they possibly could have been elsewhere for now.

Geralt hummed a reply. "All right, fine. We can go back together. But let me look around first."

The soldiers agreed with silent nods and went back to their praying as they left the witcher to examine the site.

"Hmm, strange aura…" Geralt mused as he began to approach the stake Sabrina was burned at.

A wooden wheel propped against a large stone pedestal. The ground around it still charred despite the years past. His medallion vibrated eagerly as he approached for a closer look. Lit candles, prayer cards, amulets, and coins laid all around. They were offerings, just like people would do at shrines. Who would leave items here and more importantly, why?

Among the items, square coins adorned with a fish intrigued the witcher. It seems the plotters of the conspiracy in the Kaedweni camp liked to come here. Also, a letter, to which Geralt grabbed and put away for later. Other than that, nothing unusual about the other items.

Further up, his enhanced vision made out of the tracks around the place. Human and animal tracks. All of them staying away from the wheel - afraid. That is were it not for the lone Kaedweni boot track and of course cats, the creatures' strange fondness to rest near places of power.

"Glad I'm not the only one that likes to desecrate this site," Geralt mumbled.

Looking back towards the wheel, the witcher focused on sight and sound. An unnatural stillness emanated from it, typical of Intersections and places where streams of Power meet. Harmless but unnerving.

To the wheel itself, Geralt noticed more strangeness. The wheel had no charring on it despite Sabrina being tied and burned to it. Something protected it.

"What's this?" Geralt commented as he went further to inspect.

There were fresh holes and splinters from the wheel. Recent, too recent. The witcher had concluded to take one of the nails that were left, just in case there was something important to it.

"I think that's it," Geralt grumbled as he stepped out to observe the circle in its entirety. "So… I need to bring the king here, reenact the execution. If I can only summon Sabrina's ghost, I can force her to lift the curse. The mist and the specters will remain, but at least the king will be safe."

In order to recreate the execution, Geralt would need to know exactly what happened here. Witnesses beside the king, they would be the key. If he could find out how Sabrina died, then he should be able to free Henselt. And he had two leads; the nail thief and whoever seemed to pray to Sabrina like a god. Luckily, the latter he could question.

The two soldiers roused with eagerness as the witcher approached back to them. "You've looked and touched your fill… right?" one asked, twiddling their thumbs. "Let's get outta here."

"I have some questions for you first," Geralt said.

"What for?" the soldier asked, stepping frantically in place. "We can't be here any longer."

"And the sooner you answer my questions, the sooner we can go," Geralt replied. "Go back yourself if you don't like it."

The soldiers gave Geralt dry looks. "Fine," one relented, throwing up his arms. "What do you want to know?"

Geralt nodded and began. "Did either of you see them burn Sabrina?" he asked.

"Three years ago?" one of them questioned, to which Geralt rolled his eyes to confirm. "We both served under Henselt then, but only the 5th Company guarded the stake."

"They say the king never wanted to make a spectacle," the other soldier chimed in. "Some soldiers never come here, but others visit the Circle to check the remains."

Geralt arched a brow at the response. Check the remains?

"You're just like them," the other soldier accused, catching the witcher off guard. "To you, it's only a superstition to make money from. You're looking for old nails in the ashes."

"Like that shitbag who trades outside the inn," the other commented.

Someone was selling items from the execution? That might be good for Geralt to know.

"Okay next question," Geralt asked. "Did you light those candles?"

"We did," the soldier nodded as he exchanged a glance with the other soldier. "What's it to you?"

"Burning them for Sabrina?"

"To you, 'tis a waste of time, right?" the soldier questioned back, raising his voice.

"Don't you feel their eyes on ya?" the other soldier asked as he circled his head around. "They're watching us. We won't get out alive, superstitious idiots that we are."

"Don't you believe the Visionary?" the soldier asked his colleague. "You don't have to… but it was worth a try, right?"

"It's the old idiot's fault that we ended up here," the other soldier argued.

Geralt had heard of this 'Visionary' from soldiers talking in the camp. A prophet of some local cult of some sort that lived out in the wastes supposedly not far from the camp. Another lead for the witcher to investigate.

"What sort of stories did the Visionary tell you?" Geralt asked.

"He says, if we burn the candles, the dead sorceress's spirit will save us from death in battle," the soldier spoke with dedication from his voice.

"He also says those who believe him will survive," the other soldier added.

"Well, I believe him," the soldier raised. "Know why?"

Geralt shook his head.

"It's because he lives deep in the valleys, but something protects him from all those harpies."

More likely, this Visionary had something the harpies don't like such as a smell of kind rather than 'divine aid'. In any case, Geralt now had two leads to follow; the Visionary and the shady merchant.

"Alright, I had enough of this place. Let's go," Geralt told the soldiers.

"Thought you'd want to stay the night here," the soldier quipped sarcastically.

"I know at least a few places where I'd rather," Geralt answered and walked away. "Now let's go before I let the drowners get you."

* * *

The relic peddler was a dead end. As Geralt had most likely suspected, the 'peddler' was just the quartermaster selling various bits and pieces of the execution site to soldiers who believed in the Visionary's words. Geralt still couldn't quite understand how so many of them fell for it, the peddler's act was so stale like a pie without filling you needed a drooling tongue to find it appealing.

Luckily, it wasn't a complete waste of time for Geralt as he learned the peddler was present at the execution. Though he didn't hear what Sabrina curses towards Henselt, he vividly described how a soldier named Yahon was the one that speared her through the chest. Matching the description Dethmold told Geralt of the same soldier that messed up killing the sorceress, unable to do it in a single strike.

But Yahon wasn't much of a lead either. Geralt asked around, from the soldiers to the quartermaster and company commanders. None knew of Yahon or if they did, did not know where he was. Thus it left the witcher with one option.

Out into the rocks were quite windy, entrances to different areas scattered around. One area Geralt ran into had a troll to which the witcher had to quickly escape from as the narrow cliffs made it hard to fight in.

After several more passes and finding more items and coins, Geralt's hearing picked up on fighting of men, screaming past slurping sounds.

"Heeelp!"

"Behind you!"

The voice was then struck down, screaming as guttural roars overwhelmed the witcher's ears. He knew that sound. Rotfiends.

With his witcher instinct, Geralt ran at top speed and cornered around the cliff. The rotfiends had already engaged with several Kaedweni soldiers barely holding their own. The witcher drew his silver sword and downed a Thunderbolt potion.

Muscles rupturing with strength, Geralt tranced into battle. He yelled for the rotfiends attention, overpowering their roars as they looked on and charged at the witcher. The closest he charged straight through with his sword, piercing straight through. The rotfiend shrieked as it began to make a large choking sound. Quickly, Geralt shoved the creature away, his enhanced strength barreling it into the other rotfiends and exploding them into bloody chunks of rotten flesh.

"Thanks for your help, witcher!" one of the soldiers called to wave over.

"No problem," Geralt replied as he sheathed his silver sword. "What are you all doing here anyway?"

"We were on our way to the Visionary, bearing gifts and all," the soldiers said, speaking with a lisp. "But we'll be damned if we're to take one more step to him."

"So you know where this Visionary is?"

"Over there," the soldier pointed to a narrow path ahead. "Say, if you're heading over there, mind giving him this coin for us? It's for… you know what, we don't care. Do what you will with it. Come on, fellas."

Geralt stood confused as they gave him the coin and ran off. It must've not been a lot for them to care to lose. Yet as he looked into the purse, he could have sworn to feel an emotion of shock and awe. There were hundreds of coins in here, a fifth of what Geralt had on him.

"Why the hell would someone out here need this much coin for?" he asked himself as he continued on.

Through the passage, Geralt came upon a wide area by the river. A hut sat below on an incline, plain grass, and trees scattered around. Normal really but what caught his eyes were the several lit candles arranged in a circle just at the entrance to the hut. With a skinny black robbed man, arms extended out to pray.

"_The Visionary,_" Geralt muttered as he began his descent towards the man when a tingle struck the back of his neck.

The sensation then moved to the witcher's ears, a high screech like a hawk piercing from above that his witcher senses told him of danger. Geralt furloughed out his silver sword and rolled forward as the screech swung past behind. He reflexively cast Quen, holding his position as he faced upon flying monsters that repeated to screech that avian sound.

Harpies. The flying monsters that looked as though the ugliest aspects of both man and bird combined, that staunched of rot that even rats stayed away from. Now several of them hovered, their shit covered wings propelling them forward to attack.

Geralt rolled and jumped, avoiding the harpies' passes. They hollered with their avian screeches and circled around the witcher, each taking a turn to claw at Geralt. Geralt raised his blade, parrying each swipe and counteracting with his own. His blade drenched further in their blood and feathers, almost becoming a bird itself with how many there were.

The harpies screeched once more and descended at once. He could not dodge but Geralt did not worry. He held his ground as they all pummeled into him, his Quen shattering and stunning them on impact.

Opportunity at hand, Geralt took out his steel sword as well and circled around the downed monsters. They roared guttural screams as the witcher dragged both swords along the ground, cutting deep over their abdomens and wings. They flailed and thrashed in place, desperately trying to escape as they splashed around on their innards and blood. Geralt jumped away and flung a Grapeshot into the circle of harpies, ending their suffering as the shrapnel silenced away their screeches.

Geralt huffed as he put away his swords. "Looks like that's all of them," he declared as he peered back towards the hooded man, who was still standing in the same position.

But his declaration was inaccurate as the same tingle came followed by the sound of screeches. Geralt quickly reached back for his silver sword when he pummeled straight to the ground. Claws etched into his back, sharp beaks piercing his neck as several more of the screeches surrounded him.

"Get off!" Geralt yelled as he slammed his fists to the ground, unleashing an Aard that flung the harpies back.

"Quickly, over here! You'll be safe in the circle!" the man in black robes waved over.

Geralt rolled and grabbed himself up and ran towards the circle as the harpies began to regain themselves. The flapping of their large wings brushed overhead, reaching ever closer as Geralt jumped. He skidded and rolled into the circle, the rolling gusts no longer overhead. The harpies hung at the edge of the candles, hollering and screeching to the witcher before flying back towards the clifftops.

"Huh, what do you know?" Geralt said. "Guess the Visionary is protected from the harpies."

Though not of divine intervention; instead it was most likely the smell of fish oil that Geralt whiffed from the candles.

A sigh came from Geralt as he turned to talk with the Visionary. "You the Visionary?" he asked.

"That I am but…" the Visionary paused, stretching his neck out to look behind Geralt. "The others must be dead, aren't they? The ones who were supposed to come bearing gifts. I heard their cries guess they were attacked."

"No, they're alive," Geralt said as he reached and pulled out a purse. "They didn't want to risk it anymore and went back to camp. They asked me to give you this coin for… candles?"

"What!?" the Visionary asked, snatching the purse and searching through. "This is but half. Why I'll not do more than braid some wicks for this."

Geralt did not know what to say about that. Tough luck he supposed so he merely shrugged to the man.

The Visionary grunted. "What do you want from me, huh? I'll not believe you came here by chance."

"Yeah, you're right," Geralt replied. "I need to learn some things and few are willing to talk. Sabrina Glevissig's story - that's what interests me most."

The Visionary scoffed. "Listen, I'll not speak with you until I get my coin. Pure and simple."

Money? What for? The man lived out in a hut surrounded by harpies and other creatures. Geralt opened his mouth to protest but paused as the Visionary continued.

"Though I do provide charitable help to the faithful… if you were to become one of them," the Visionary said.

"Is that so?" Geralt asked to which the Visionary nodded.

"All right then," Geralt replied in the most upbeat tone of his. "I'll become a follower. I've heard a lot of good things about you."

"Wonderful!" the Visionary smiled. "Listen then, for I'll not say this twice. If your intentions are pure, you will do as I ask. Each convert must pass a test. You will have to spend a night at the old chapel near Sabrina's pupils and meditate."

"Where?"

"Twin lakes I have named in her honor," the Visionary replied, looking up to the sky with brevity.

"Is that all?" Geralt asked.

"Before you meditate..."

The Visionary ran in and out of the hut, potion in hand. Its green liquid fumed with the stench of rotten cheese, accompanied by a visible green cloud. Perhaps this wasn't better than simply playing the man?

"Drink this mixture," the Visionary said, handing it. "You must then remember all that occurs after doing so. It's very important that you do, as you'll need to recount it to me fully."

"I'll come back once I'm done," Geralt said.

The Visionary smiled with satisfaction and left to his hut, leaving Geralt to contemplate as to how he would get past harpies.

* * *

_**Vergen**_

After retrieving the immortelle and the whole spell with the monster below, Vatryn had decided to take it easy for the day and currently laid on his bed. Not that he wasn't in a hurry; he'd rather not be in this world for long but forces outside of his control had forced him to wait until Saskia could be cured. Meaning six days before Ioverth's scout could return with another rose of remembrance.

Speaking of it, Vatryn leaned down from his bed and pulled the rose out from one of his packs. Its blue petals were still soft to the touch, fresh of a violet smell.

"_Ah,_" Vatryn cinched as he scraped the edge of his finger against the thorns. "And still so prickly."

Perhaps he should have given the rose to Philippa. Despite the whole uneasiness he felt around her, she was the only one offering a solution to cure Saskia. Not like he could-

A thought catapulted the Dunmer up from the bed as he turned to his desk. A lime green liquid rested and stood out among the various potions, jogging his memory. The drink he took from Saskia's mug and poisoned her.

"Maybe," Vatryn muttered as he put aside the rose, "I could find a cure. Yeah..."

He mused on the idea, scratching his chin. Finding the cure himself would mean he was not at the mercy of waiting for others. And just in case Ioverth's scout failed, he'd rather not have to link with Philippa. Especially since he didn't know if he'd still be connected to her after he got back to Nirn. That certainly wouldn't be fun.

Vatryn grumbled, walking in pace back and forth. "But on the other hand… I don't know shit about the alchemical ingredients here. Even the ones that are the same as back home gave completely different effects. I don't exactly need more complications than there already is."

Both sides of his own argument each made sense. Comparing them together did not sway Vatryn from one side to the other either. Thus he was left with one choice. He would try both. Confusing? Yes because it was logically impossible for two opposite conditions to be met simultaneously. To hell with it though. He was the Nerevarine, of course, he'd take both options if he could.

That is to say, try them at the least as taking both tended to not end very well for him. He would first try to find a cure and if it didn't pan out, he'd go along with the sorceress's plan.

"Alright then, let's get started," Vatryn said as he cleared his desk.

In one of his pockets, the Dunmer reached for several blank scrolls and a writing utensil. It was a waste to use them as notes but since he couldn't perform magic, they were a waste anyways.

"First, I have to answer a question I have about this poison."

Vatryn recalled when he took a whiff of the poison, he could feel his heart stop for a moment and his head became woozy. Yet the ring he wore gave him immunity to all poisons, regardless of how toxic they were.

"Maybe my ring doesn't work here," he mused.

To test his theory, the Nerevarine placed four potions. Thaumador, a restore health potion, a cure poison potion, and Viperbane, a poison of his creation based on a spell back from Morrowind.

"Okay, Vatryn," he sighed as he took hold of the Viperbane. "Either this works or you're really the idiot Almalexia said."

Vatryn pursed his lips, quickly downing the contents. The cure poison followed in hand, raised to his lips then… nothing. No cough, shortness of breath, muscle contractions, nothing. He waited for several minutes in case there was a delay but the outcome remained unchanged.

"Not broken then," Vatryn shrugged, writing down the results. "As for the Thaumador…"

With just a whiff of the poisoned liquid, the Dunmer was overwhelmed in his head. The light faded from his eyes and it seemed as though he would pass out when his body suddenly willed itself out of it. His forehead still throbbed with pain and he doused his throat with cure poison to get rid of it.

"Okay, bad idea," Vatryn coughed as he corked the Thaumador. "By Azura, is that some poison! If it wasn't for my ring, I would have been dead like Saskia was meant to be."

With the poison's toxicity established, Vatryn began his second step. Being a master alchemist, Vatryn required many tools of the trade. Tools that had to be small and portable being on the road as often as he was. He had hoped to experiment with Akaviri ingredients and potions but since fate had other plans for him...

"Let's see here," he mused, searching through his pack. "Mortar and pestle, don't need that. Stirring rod, check. Beakers, check. And… ah, yes. My alembic to distill the… the… ah, no, no..."

Vatryn rubbed his eyes, certain he was being played tricks on. It was no use, the damage had been done. The alembic's glass had been warped in the center and a sliver of a crack passed over it.

"_Shit_," he muttered, sighing and groaning at his own incompetence. "How the hell did it break? Everything else is fine. Hrggh… what I get for buying an import from Skyrim. Those Nords probably banged it against someone's head when they made these."

It seemed as though Vatryn would be relegated to curing Saskia Philippa's way unless he could find another alembic. As he pondered on finding someone that had access to one, a loud crash broke his concentration and directed him to the door. It was from below, followed by another crash, then shattering of glass.

"Fucking drunk! Enough!"

Following the several obscenities of cursing and chair screeching, Vatryn hurried down the stairs to witness a dwarf laid against a broken table as a dwarven patron stood over him.

"I'm tired of you telling that damn story about flying women!" the dwarf said as a crowd of onlookers. "I'll teach you not to open your mouth!"

The dwarf patron raised his arm to strike before Vatryn jumped in. The Nerevarine wouldn't abide by a drunken brawl making such a ruckus.

"Hey now, that isn't exactly a nice thing to do," Vatryn said, holding the dwarf's arm in place.

"Fuck off, gray elf," the dwarf patron shoved off. "This ain't your business."

The dwarf patron resumed back to striking but Vatryn interceded again, blocking the punch without effort.

"Actually, it is," Vatryn replied as he applied pressure to the dwarf patron's arm. The dwarf grunted, his complete attention upon the Dunmer. "I can't stand by and let a brawl happen in this tavern. You're making a scene, breaking tables, and you're being loud."

"Fuck, let me-"

The Nerevarine released the dwarf's arm, toppling him to the ground. "Shit," he groaned as he clasped his arm. "What's your problem, gray elf?"

"Bluish gray and you..." Vatryn told to the dwarf. "Now listen, I don't care what this drunk is saying but you don't just start punching people for that. Either have the barkeep throw him out or leave, your choice."

"I just wanted to drink in peace, you bastard," the dwarf patron groaned as he stood. "Barkeep, you gonna let him get away with this? Anyone?"

Vatryn raised a brow out to the barkeep. He busied whistling away, wiping clean one of the mugs. The other patrons as well as they tried best to not look, spotting the occasional glance from them.

"Well fuck all ya," the dwarf patron said as he flipped off to the entire tavern and grumbled on his way out.

Vatryn sighed. "Finally," he said, scratching his head.

It was then he still noticed the tavern goers eyes still laid bare upon him. Ires of worries and doubts among them as they watched the Nerevarine intently. They weren't scared from the looks of it, not yet anyway unless Vatryn provoked him to which might get them to stop looking.

Instead, Vatryn elected to let out a hearty chuckle. "Wow, that guy was an ass!" he exclaimed with closed eyes and a smile. "Oh don't mind me, everyone. Just helping a poor man up. You know we could listen to his stor-"

The eyes turned away en sync before Vatryn could finish his sentence, people returning to their activity as if nothing had happened.

"Huh?" Vatryn hummed as he helped up the downed drunk dwarf. "Guess they really don't want to hear from you?"

"Ahh… what?" the drunk dwarf slurred, dazing his head.

"You might want to take it easy there, friend," Vatryn said. "You must have been thrown really hard for the table to break under you."

"Bastard was a prick. I- argh…"

The drunk dwarf bellowed over, arching his back. Vatryn helped steady the drunk from falling over, who was heavier than he looked.

Towards the bar, Vatryn spotted stools for the two sit. It would have been improper of him to let the dwarf just fall after saving him.

"There you go," Vatryn said as he and the drunk took a seat. "That's better, right?"

The drunk dwarf gasped for air, still holding his back. "Not really…" he replied as he leaned over the counter. "But if I could have a drink perhaps…"

"Not happening," Vatryn shot down his proposal. "Drinking is what got you in this mess in the first place."

"Come on, mate. It's the least you could do for me," the drunk dwarf protested as he fell to rest over the counter and moaned.

Vatryn rolled his eyes. He'd already helped him this far anyway, perhaps a drink wouldn't hurt.

"Barkeep, a drink please," Vatryn said with a sighed voice, placing several coins down.

The drunk dwarf cracked a smile to which Vatryn sighed and placed several more coins. "And give me one of your strongest too."

"Sure thing but right after you pay for that table," the barkeep said.

Vatryn turned immediately with a glare. Was this man blind? "What for?" he demanded. "I didn't break the table. The other guy who left did. Make him pay."

"He wouldn't have broken the table if this idiot had kept his mouth shut," the barkeep pointed. "Everyone in here could recite his story after hearing him jabber so long."

"Fine, whatever," Vatryn relented, throwing his hands up.

The Dunmer wouldn't fight over money he didn't plan to keep long anyway. After being handed the drinks, the Nerevarine watched with curiosity as the drunk dwarf gurgled down his mug like it were the nectar of the Divines.

"You seem to be feeling better," Vatryn commented at the dwarf's more lively movements.

"Well drink does always do me good," the drunk dwarf rolled around his neck. "Hey, are you going to finish that?"

"Knock yourself out," Vatryn said, passing his mug over. "So… what was this story that pissed that guy off?"

"Oh no. Don't get him started on that!" the barkeep protested, slamming his hands.

"Why not?" the drunk dwarf questioned as he slurped. "I'm a client and I'll say what I want."

As the Nerevarine observed, a smirk besmirched over his face. An idea, a petty one he might add, formed.

"He's right, you know," Vatryn told to the barkeep as he grabbed the drunk dwarf in a friendly side hug. "And I for one would actually love to hear this man's story."

"What… I-" the barkeep stumbled.

"Of course, if you'd rather not hear, you can kick him out," Vatryn said, leaning over the counter. "Of course, that would mean you'd have to kick me out too and I don't think that's a very good idea. Do you?"

The Nerevarine questioned with a smoldering glare and a smile towards the barkeep, who shivered in his boots. That or it could have been he was simply small compared to Vatryn. Either way, having the dwarf listen to the story was revenge enough.

"Thought so," Vatryn relented as he placed more coins on the counter. "Now then, would you be so kind as to give the man here another drink?"

The barkeep grumbled and mumbled, turning back to prepare another drink. Vatryn couldn't help but be a bit gleeful and smug.

"Thanks gray elf," the drunk dwarf commented.

"No problem," Vatryn shrugged as he turned to the drunk. "And please, call me Vatryn. So… as to my question before we were rudely interrupted?"

"Oh, right, right," the drunk dwarf nodded away. "Last week, I was passing by the gullies. I like to take a hike there from time to time…"

The drunk dwarf paused to take a swig as the barkeep returned and slid another mug to the dwarf.

"And?" Vatryn asked.

"I'm walking there and suddenly, there's a flash… a crack. I'm thinking, 'a storm's coming', but nary a cloud in the sky. Then I saw people lying in a gully as if they'd fallen from the sky! A man and a woman. The woman was so beautiful, I wished she'd fallen on me."

The drunk dwarf locked into a trance as he spoke the last sentence. It grossed the Nerevarine out as he licked his lips.

"You sure this 'woman' wasn't some fantasy you thought of? Perhaps passed out?"

"I know what I saw," the drunk dwarf said. "I remember her perfectly. A redhead, wearing a striped green vest and high shoes. Pert tits and a round arse… just waiting to be grabbed and… mmmhff."

Vatryn was starting to regret talking with this perverted dwarf. The way he talked about this redhead just grossed him out with all the talk about…

"Wait a minute," Vatryn exclaimed.

He traced back over the words the drunk described, excluding the perverted ones, as it began to recall. The woman the dwarf described sounded like that sorceress that accompanied Geralt. Trisha… no, Triss. Triss was her name. Which meant Geralt wasn't far behind if that were true.

"The man with this woman," Vatryn asked with renewed intrigue. "Was he a witcher?"

"I don't know. He was big with burly arms and a bald head. I think he carried two swords on his back."

The description sounded like Letho and as Vatryn recalled, Geralt was after that witcher.

"So what happened to this man and woman?"

"Well… the woman was hurting, couldn't get up. The man clearly disliked her 'cause he didn't help her. Just stood there, menacing and talking. And then he left and the redhead stayed."

"And you didn't help her?" Vatryn questioned.

"I was about to do that when a troll came out of the gully," the drunk dwarf said. "Ugly as shit after blueberries!"

"The troll attacked the woman?"

"Not at all. I hid and saw everything. First, he sniffed her so I thought he'd eat her. But he didn't. Instead, he threw her over his shoulder like a sack and returned to the gullies."

"So that's it?" Vatryn asked. The drunk dwarf nodded. "I don't get it then. Why would that guy beat you up over that story?"

"Because he kept saying it over and over!" the barkeep interjected, breaking from his silence. "And he kept going into great detail about the woman. Perverted details."

"I say what I like," the drunk dwarf remarked as he slammed his mug. "Now, give me another. Mahakaman mead."

"You've had enough! Now get out of here!"

"You can't kick me out. Right gray one?" the drunk dwarf asked.

Vatryn glared in silence to the dwarf, raising a brow. "It's Vatryn, not gray one," he said, crossing his arms. "And I think you can settle this yourself now."

Eager to get away from the pervert, the Nerevarine speedily walked out of the tavern and nodded a smile to the barkeep for luck dealing with the dwarf.

Reflection on the drunk dwarf's words swirled within the Nerevarine's mind as he exited out into the streets. Seeing as he was drunk, the sensible option would be to ignore his story and chalk it up to one of those drunken ramblings that sounded normal. But if experience has taught Vatryn anything, it was to always believe even the craziest of stories. At worst, they were traps or Dibellan nudist orgies.

Vatryn shivered. "Ugh... they were so scaly," he recalled from the awful experience he barely escaped from. "Hopefully, my clothes will stay on by the end of all this."


	15. A Nerevarine's Work

**Chapter 15: A Nerevarine's Work**

Disclaimer: I do not own the Elder Scroll Series or the Witcher Series

The Elder Scrolls belong to Bethesda and the Witcher belongs to Andrzej Sapkowski.

**The chapter contains original and paraphrased dialogue from the Witcher 2**

* * *

"So how long is it going to take?" Vatryn asked.

He penned his question to a young mage merchant, Felicia Cori. Or more accurately to say an apprentice of some kind from a magic school that sounded quite secretive as she had explained to him.

"Three hours or so. The artisan can complete the alembic in five hours and it should only take me a few minutes to place the final touches."

"You know, I'm surprised you can do it so fast," Vatryn commented as he scratched his head. "Mages back home would always make me wait a few days for specially made items. Yet somehow a city about to be under siege can do it in mere hours."

"Are your mages not skilled?" Felicia tilted her head.

"They're lazy, that's what," Vatryn told her. "The mages that are skilled could probably do it in minutes yet can't be bothered too. They always push them to apprentices who shouldn't even be near the items. No offense of course."

"None taken," Felicia smiled. "In fact, I'm grateful. The locals here are reluctant to buy magic items and I really need to pass."

"This helps with your potion and fetish internship?" Vatryn questioned with a raised brow.

"Well… no… I…, not the latter," Felicia twirled her hands together. "I'd need something else for… that."

The young mage's cheeks flushed red like a ripe tomato as she looked away from Vatryn. The Nerevarine noticed that her eyes would glance and look away at a moment's notice. Precariously below his face.

"Oh well…" he said, turning away and crossing his arms. "Good luck with that. I'll… see you later when the alembic is ready."

Speedily, he walked away from the apprentice though not so fast as to arouse any awkwardness. To which he failed to prevent as his own cheeks arose with heat, droplets of sweat dripping down from the pores.

A long sigh escaped from the Dunmer. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked himself as he wiped off his sweat.

He didn't know why but anytime a woman so much as made a suggestive glance, look, or even tone of words he would just lock up. Talking with women, completely fine. Hell even if he saw them naked, he doesn't even budge a glance. But flirting… the hero of Morrowind, who killed demigods, cowers at the mention of such a thing?

"And here I thought I wouldn't have been bothered by such a thing," Vatryn remarked. "With all the hate the elves here get, I'm surprised they'd find someone like me attractive. I must be like a slice of exotic meat here."

After calming from his episode, Vatryn reassessed back to his situation. He had a few hours to kill before he could resume work on the cure. There were several options presented that he could take.

He could just go back to the tavern and take the day off as he had planned. But he has too engrossed in finding the cure now, it wasn't an option. Help around the town? Last time he helped out a town, he stayed around for a month. And that was a small village. Which left him with two things. The curse or the drunken dwarf's ramblings.

"Okay then," he muttered to himself as he stopped. The Nerevarine overlooked the entirety of the town, having walked near to the top level without notice. "Guess I should watch my step. There's no river like in Vivec to break my fall."

He sat to contemplate his options. Towards the rocky valley, he could spot, laid out his objectives. To the mist, find the objects of power to lift it after asking Cecil. To the windy maze of valleys, the sorceress that accompanied Geralt who may or may not be there.

"Lifting the curse would help me finish the deal with Philippa," Vatryn said as he hummed. "Of course, as soon as I do lift that curse, this town will become under siege. And even if we defeat the Kaedweni, there's probably going to be more to do. Especially if they want this whole valley to be independent. Doubt that sorceress will be able to help me then."

Vatryn sighed at the conundrum, another dead end it seemed on his quest to return home.

"I need a mage that'll actually cooperate with me, that's what I need," he mused as he slumped over and sat. "Maybe I should investigate that sorceress, Triss. She may not be able to help me but she could direct me to someone else that's willing. And if she is in danger, well… it never hurts to get a favor from a mage."

"There you are."

Vatryn was lured from his introspection, approached by Iorveth. The elf commando walked with a strong purpose in his stride, focused squarely on the Dunmer.

"Ah, Commander," Vatryn jabbed to the elf. "Wanting a report on-"

"Come with me," Iorveth said, sounding as if it were a command to Vatryn.

"Excuse-"

"There's no time for your quips," Iorveth repeated with a swift unbridled tone. "Now let's go."

It was different from how Iorveth had spoken to Vatryn. The dire urgency he voiced wrought with desperateness and it slightly worried the Dunmer.

"Why, what is it?" Vatryn sprung up.

"The peasants formed a mob," Iorveth began to explain as Vatryn followed behind. "They're wanting to lynch Stennis."

"That prince guy?" Vatryn questioned, answered by a quick nod. "Wait, why do you care? I thought you hated humans, especially the noble ones."

"You're right that I could care less what happens to them," Iorveth confirmed. "Stennis and the other nobles most certainly don't support Saskia. But if the mob gets out of hand, it will turn into a riot."

"And the riot will turn not just against nobles but the nonhumans as well," Vatryn finished. "Then Vergen will be defenseless."

"So you do understand," Iorveth quipped.

"I don't understand why you're bringing me over? You expect me to scare them or something?"

"Follow me and you'll find out."

What Vatryn saw was that the streets were much to narrow for such a large congregation of people. It was a fireball hazard for gods' sake. It was too bad he didn't have his magic though as he could at least freeze the mob in place if things were to get out of hand.

No, not if. When. The Nerevarine could sense it the moment he followed Iorveth and several of his Scoia'tael into the narrow halls. The rage, locked up and ready to burst at the seams. Overwhelming the most basic sense of decency, a pure bestial hunger that could only be satisfied in blood. An all too familiar feeling.

Again, Vatryn didn't understand what Iorveth brought him here for. To stop them? And with words, as he inferred from the Scoia'tael's wishes? From the looks of the peasants beginning to mass near presumably where the Prince was, conversation was certainly not what they came for.

"Where were you when they poisoned Saskia!?" Vatryn heard, wading through the crowd. "Give us the prince! We'll fail him!"

Skalen and his dwarves stood at the end of the street, arguing back against the peasants. Several nobles hid behind them, chipper in their mood as they argued strongly back that the peasants ought to leave. Probably because of the armored knights that guarded around them.

"Right then," Vatryn pondered to Iorveth as he observed over the hollering mess. "How are we suppo-"

"Enough!" Iorveth bellowed, powerful like the roar of a Kagouti.

The entire yard fell into silence and whispers as both sides cowered back from the commando.

"Squirrels…" the speechless peasants uttered.

"If anyone wants to leave this yard in one piece, then keep your hands off your weapons," Iorveth said, commanding the attention of everyone. "And I don't care who you are. Serf or lord - I'll kill you all if need be."

"Guess that's one way," Vatryn commented.

Iorveth quickly directed his glare to the Dunmer, surprising him and swearing he might have cowered too.

"Sure then," Vatryn scratched his hair as he turned to the mob. "So since scary elf archer here has your attention, anyone mind telling me what you're so angry about?"

"Not your concern, gray elf," a peasant jabbered.

"Wrong, it is," Iorveth said, voice still raised and further cowering the peasants. "Now speak."

A gulp escaped from the peasant's throat, escaping breaths just leaving his throat before another stepped forth.

"The servant carrying the wine during the feast said that Prince Stennis and Olcan poisoned Saskia!" the peasant said, slamming his hands together. "We want justice!"

"No, you want to beat a man to death on the street," Vatryn pointed out. "That's revenge, not justice."

"We don't care," the peasant said. "Saskia's probably dead and the poisoning prince and his nobles are trying to herd us to the field like slaughter to Henselt. We won't let them get away with this!"

"You lie, Kalten," a noble spoke up. "No one is getting sold out. When we find the poisoner, they must be put on trial."

"By your law?" the peasant questioned as others congregated close with sullen teeth. "He'll just pay a fine and get spanked on the arse. But we'll spank him alright, with an axe to the throat!"

The mob cheered in a rousing fever pitch and began to move forward. Vatryn thought they would charge if it was not for the sound of knocking arrows from the Scoia'tael.

"Tell me this," Vatryn asked the mob, "where's your witness? If you're all so adamant to kill the prince on his words, then why isn't he here?"

"He's safe," Iorveth answered. "The Scoia'tael are guarding him."

"It's because of the nobles," the peasant exclaimed. "He's too scared of them that he can't testify. Now move out of the way."

"I told you to stay put!" Iorveth interceded, hands placed over his hilt. "The first one to reach for a weapon will get shot. Then heads will start rolling."

"There's more of us," a peasant argued back. "You can kill all-"

"Then you'll be first," Iorveth marched straight into the peasant's face. "Now… back off!"

Like a weak wall, the peasants' morale crumbled before Iorveth's fury and retreated back further down the yard like a sickly wolf. Yet, the lone wolf still had a pack and soon would return in force for an unbridled mess of blood. Unless their hunger was sated.

"Huh," Vatryn said as he shrugged. "Well, it's just like another day on the border with Black Marsh.

"We need to act quickly, Vatryn," Iorveth told the Dunmer.

"No, duh," Vatryn said. "I'd rather not see people murder each other because one guy said something. That's terrible."

Iorveth crossed his arms. "Why did that sound sincere?" he asked.

"Just because I'm eager to go home doesn't mean I don't care about people," Vatryn said as he looked back to the mob. "If I did, then I would have left ages ago."

"True," Iorveth relented.

"In any case, we don't have much time," Vatryn said. "Can you hold them off while I question around? I should be able to find the truth behind the whole poisoner mess."

Iorveth nodded. "I can but you have to be swift. There's only so much I can do by frightening or bleeding them. One thing I know for sure, you won't be able to talk with everyone you want."

"We'll see," Vatryn said.

"Wait," Iorveth held Vatryn back by the arm. "If you aren't able to sway the mob, then you need to be prepared to give them what they want. Remember Philippa said we need royal blood to cure Saskia."

Vatryn lamented with a frown. "I'd rather not," he said. Iorveth reaffirmed with an austere look and the Dunmer sighed. "But if it's really the only option left…"

With luck, Vatryn wouldn't have to resort to it if he could discern past the lies.

"_Okay, Vatryn,_" the Nerevarine whispered. "_Remember when something like this happened._"

After dealing with Almalexia, Vatryn had traveled further south to a village near Narsis. Delivering something for a friend, the town was midst in a riot almost like this one. A Dunmer boy claimed an Argonian attacked him, showing claw marks on his backs. Imperials prevented any escalation but a problem in Cyrodil lead them and-

"_No, no_," Vatryn shook his head. "_There's no time for that. Have to get moving._"

He approached the peasants, seeing as what they said would be at least somewhat true and at most hyperbole. But before Vatryn could utter a word, the peasants slowly turned with a look of disgust and cringe.

"What do you want, gray elf?" a peasant asked, looking at Vatryn as if he had just committed an atrocity.

"My name is Vatryn and I'm actually a dark elf," Vatryn corrected, raising brows from the peasants. "And I wanted to ask you all some questions."

"For what? To find who's guilty?" a peasant asked. "We know who it is. That's why we're here, to serve justice."

"Of course, I understand and that's why I want to help you," Vatryn bowed, hand over chest.

"You?" the peasant questioned, exchanging wary glances with the rest.

"Yes, I'm an independent arbitrator," Vatryn said. "Though cruel of me to say, I have no stake in this. It won't matter to me if Stennis dies or not nor if Saskia is cured or not. I could leave right now yet I'm here trying to find the truth."

"You're an elf working for the Scoia'tael," a peasant chided with a pointed finger. "Piece of dung shit that lies and cheats. Ya know nothin' about truth?"

"You mean the truth as in that the nobles have taken advantage of the common man since time immemorial," Vatryn nonchalantly shrugged, closing his eyes as he sauntered. "They think of you as nothing more than property, only allowing you to live some semblance of freedom so long as you listen to their every whim. Essentially like slavery with extra steps."

Vatryn opened one eye and saw the peasants now a bit more intrigued by him. Not friendly still as if wanting to talk but somewhat inclined to at least hear him.

"I'm not one of Iorveth's elves," Vatryn emphasized as he pointed towards the commando. "Where I'm from, humans and elves live in peace. And even there I've seen the same thing just as you have here. Human, elf, doesn't matter. Nobles of both races see everyone else like sheep to be fed to slaughter."

"Then why are you protecting the prince, eh, if you know that?" a peasant asked as several others nodded with yeahs.

"Because killing someone based solely on one man's word makes you no better than the nobles," Vatryn replied. "Am I not right when a noble flogs one of you based solely on a word of someone of their peers? That their children or compatriots blame their misfortunes on you?"

"That's different," a peasant protested.

"It's the same," Vatryn said as he puffed his chest. "If you want to avoid becoming like the monsters you claim to bring justice against, then I need to know what happened."

"What's there to tell?" the peasant questioned. "Willy of the Oblates saw the prince plan to poison Saskia. He loved the Virgin like a sister and mother put together, he wouldn't lie."

"As would a noble say about their compatriots," Vatryn crossed his arms. "But I'm going to need more than that if you want justice. Do you know if Stennis could have poisoned the wine? Did he have access?"

"How should I know?" a peasant shrugged.

"The prince is a wealthy lord," another peasant answered as his peers pointed and nodded to him. "Is nothing for him to bribe a skivvy to poison the wine."

"Just because you can do something doesn't mean you will," Vatryn said. "Do you all have nothing more than just hearsay to offer?"

The mob of peasants offered silence and condemning looks of disgust and annoyance. Their eyes leerily shifted to one another as best they could to keep away from the Dunmer.

"Nevermind then," Vatryn waved off. "Thanks for your time."

Mostly a waste it was and most likely a bad choice as he may have agitated them further. But judging how much calmer they seemed as he walked away from the yard, perhaps not. Hopefully, his words would at least stick with them.

It was on to the next witness or more appropriately, the only sensible witness. Vatryn surmised the nobles would give him a usual answer as to how the peasants were dumb and needed to know their place. Cecil and his dwarves had just gotten to the yard so he doubted they would know anything. And the Prince? He'd have better luck getting Molag Bal and Boethiath together for tea.

"So then, you're the servant that started this whole commotion?" Vatryn asked. "Quite brave of you to stand up against the hierarchy."

"W-w-wha… I don't know you. G- go away... gray elf."

Yet another frightened by the Nerevarine and also weirdly similar looking to the last peasant he spoke too.

"Now, now," Vatryn wavered to the man with a coy grin. "Let's not be rude. You wouldn't want your bodyguards to abandon you, would you?"

The servant looked behind Vatryn and himself and his body shifted to the timidness of a mouse. "I-I-I… I mean, um…"

"It's alright my good man," Vatryn briefly smiled. "However, I am on a time limit so I must ask: what did you see about the Prince and the poison?"

"Prince? Poison?" the servant stammered, raising his hands. "I didn't do nothin'."

"I didn't say you did but-"

"Didn't say nothin' Don't know nothin' and didn't see nothin!"

The servant took several steps back from Vatryn, leering his head away and shut himself off. With magic, Vatryn would be able to calm him. Talking to him more might work but with little time he might have…

"I really don't want to have to resort to this," Vatryn reached slowly into one of his pockets. "But you leave me no choice."

"W-what," the servant said as he huddled his hands together. "No, don't."

"It's all right," Vatryn said as he clapped the servant on the shoulder. "See."

The servant inched a finger for his eye to lay upon what Vatryn held. A small scroll laid plainly out.

"A scroll?" the servant questioned as his fear was suddenly replaced by confusion.

"Actually, look closer," Vatryn said as he directed the scroll closer to the servant's face.

"I-"

A green light emanated from the scroll so quickly that the servant froze mid-sentence. The light took an energy, swirling around the servant. His pupils engorged and a green tint washed over his eyes.

"Oh my," the servant cooed. "I feel so relaxed and... and…"

"Calm, right?" Vatryn asked.

"Yeah," the servant slowly nodded.

"_And a scroll that I had to waste,_" Vatryn muttered away before turning back. "So then, being so calm, are you still scared to tell me what you witnessed?"

"Why, um… not really but... promise you won't tell you?"

"Lips are sealed on a Dunmer's honor," Vatryn gestured, sealing his lips.

"Okay then," the servant slowly said as he leaned close. "Uh… I heard the priest talking with the prince. Said the Virgin is really a beast under her fair skin."

"Priest?"

"Olcan, the one killed on the battlefield when the mist started."

Vatryn sighed. "Which means I can't confirm your story."

"But I speak the truth though," the servant spoke as quickly the Calm spell allowed. "I heard the priest in the prince's room when I was making Saskia's. He said, 'just clear the servants from the kitchen.' Nothin' more."

"Doesn't mean the prince poisoned Saskia," Vatryn surmised. "But it does mean he at least knew about the attempted poisoning."

"Well, he-" the servant said as the green tint vanished from his eyes. "I- what, how, how did you-"

"And that's my cue to go," Vatryn said as he quickly walked away. "Thank you, have a nice day."

* * *

The lungs of the servant were something. Even on the other side of the town, Vatryn could still hear the cries of the servant reach to the very tip of his eardrums. A devil. He hadn't heard that before. Well, only from bandits at least.

"I'm lucky the peasants are too busy wanting to lynch the prince," Vatryn said.

There wasn't much evidence for Vatryn to go on. Only hearsay. The priest's old place would have to give him something more to go on.

With Cecil's directions, he found the old place. Decrepit and dark, it looked like it was abandoned for years already.

"Must be one of those crazy priests," Vatryn mused as he began to search through the room.

Several minutes of searching books on the local religion and ramblings on Saskia, Vatryn only managed to find one thing of valuable evidence. Schematics from the looks of it, for a chalice. Exactly like the one Saskia drank from.

"But why schematics?" Vatryn asked himself.

Drawing from his experience as a Morag Tong assassin, he learned of the ways that the Dark Brotherhood would perform their assassinations on his target. And poisoning is always one of the hardest. Taste testers, detect poison, and change of the food and drink. Made it all but impossible.

"But what about the utensils?" Vatryn asked and his brain suddenly lit. "Of course! Most people assume poison has to be ingested to kill you so they only focus on what goes into their body. But some poisons really only need to make skin contact and so you poison the spoons, the plates, or even the toilet. So what if the priest had the cups switched with an exact replica at the last moment? That would explain the schematic."

However, it still did not exonerate the prince. The only certainty is that he knew of the plot. Does that make him guilty? And even if he were, does he have to be beaten to death in the streets?

"Too many questions, not enough answers," Vatryn stated as he left the room. "And I'm essentially deciding. As if the place didn't hate me enough."

* * *

Just in time for the Nerevarine as he arrived at the mob's patience coming to ahead. Having doubled in size, the dwarves and nobles could no longer keep them at bay even with the Scoia'tael. Iorveth's bone-breaking of hands reached its limits and the mob began its push towards Stennis' dwelling.

"Iorveth!" Vatryn called out, waving his arm out high as he waded through the crowd.

"It's about time," Iorveth said. "We're at our limit here. Did you find out anything?"

"Enough that I could," Vatryn said as he looked toward the mob. "But I'll have to see if they'll listen. Mind getting me to the front?"

Iorveth grunted to affirm and brought forth the Scoia'tael, pushing aside the peasants for a path.

"Excuse me, excuse me," Vatryn squeezed through. "So sorry but have to get through."

Vatryn managed through to the entrance of Stennis' dwelling as a loud argument bellowed between the nobles and peasants.

"Behave yourselves!"

"You ain't gonna bully us no more! Come on lads, let's drag the prince from 'is hovel!

A tide of aggression swept over the mob as they began their push towards Stennis. The dwarves and armored knights locked with their swords and shields, trying to stem the tide but slowly they began to be pushed back.

"Hey, hey, wait!" Vatryn waved his arms up. "Calm down. I have evidence, I know who poisoned Saskia!"

No avail as the mob continued on, throwing stones and other items. Then fighting as they branded out their own weapons.

"Shit, not again," Vatryn said as he scrambled into his pouch and pulled out another scroll.

Quickly, he unraveled the scroll and it filled the Dunmer's hands in green energy. He threw them out and in an instant, burst over the entire yard. Peasants, dwarves, elves, everyone say for Vatryn froze and returned to a state of ease as the green energy swirled around their bodies. Everyone gave glances of relaxation then confusion before Vatryn snapped his fingers.

"Over here, everyone," Vatryn said as all bodies turned. "Thank you. Now before I begin, I just want to say that this is magic you are under influence of. And it should be wearing off… right about… now."

On cue, the energy dissipated and many stood shaking their heads, wide-eyed as to what had befallen them.

"Wha-"

"Before you ask," Vatryn spoke, silencing the murmurs. "I used a magic scroll on all of you. Forced all of you to be calm essentially. Now, you can all get mad again if you want however I should warn you that I have evidence of the identity of the poisoner. And I don't think anyone wants to keep guessing."

Only mumbles and slurs answered back to the Nerevarine, many still shaking their heads.

"You-" a peasant stumbled forth. "You- magic meddling fucker! What the hell did you do to us gray elf? We ain't trusting the word that comes from a mage!"

'Well, I'm not mage, just-"

"You!"

The accusatory voice slumped Vatryn down, the familiar posh accent coming back to bite him in the ass.

"Oh, um…" Vatryn said as he turned to see the noble from the tavern. "Do I know you?"

"Of course you know, you ingrate, I am Silgrat! You… took my clothes! I had to walk bare because of you, humiliated!"

"Took his clothes?" Vatryn heard amongst the crowd.

"Hey, I remember!" a peasant midst the mob arose. "Gray elf there beat the shit out of that noble! Carried him like a baby!"

"Yeah after he pissed like one!"

"I did no such thing!" Silgrat protested as chuckles now escaped from the mob.

"Um, yes you did," Vatryn noted. "Also, since I humiliated a noble, does that not make me someone you're all willing to hear from?" the Dunmer asked the crowd.

"No, it does not," Silgrat said as he looked over to the mob. "This is not someone you can trust!"

"No actually, the gray elf makes a point," another peasant of the mob stepped forth. "Anyone that puts a noble down for people like us is okay. Though since he's an elf, that don't make him our friend."

"Well now that's hurtful," Vatryn raised as he playfully shrugged. "But since you're all willing to hear me out, I guess I can brush it off."

"I'm not," Silgrat said, shaking his fist.

"Quiet you," Vatryn brushed the noble off with a wave. "Anyways, I know who poisoned Saskia or at the very least, who's plot it was. It was the priest, Reverend Olcan! This schematic here I found in his room, for an exact replica of the chalice Saskia drank from. It proves that he had the cups switched at the last moment."

"Olcan's dead," a peasant said. "And everyone knows Olcan was on Stennis' leash, like a dog!"

"I don't and that's certainly not what Willy of the Oblates told me," Vatryn said.

"You lie!" the peasant shot back.

"He told me more of what he really heard," Vatryn recounted. "Olcan tried to convince Stennis to help him poison Saskia."

"So what?" a peasant questioned. "Is Stennis some dimwit foundling that he dances to a lousy priest's tune? Olcan got what he deserved when Henselt cleaved his head. Now it's Stennis' time!"

Cheers gave way with pumped fists raised to the air following the declaration as Silgrat interceded.

"That is no proof that the prince agreed," the noble declared.

"No, but the priest did ask Stennis to open the kitchen for him," Vatryn raised.

"See?" the peasant said as they pointed and nodded. "The prince allowed the Virgin to be poisoned."

"That's guessing, not evidence," Vatryn gave a half-hearted glare. "You can't convict someone based on that. We won't really know for sure unless the prince himself comes out and tells his side of the story."

As if Vatryn were a soothsayer, the door to Stennis' dwelling swung open for the prince to march out all high and mighty in his golden armor. The hollerings of the mob stopped en masse and their heads turned en sync, following the prince moved like he was the last scrap of food.

"Your Highness," Silgrat exasperated a gasp. "This is dangerous."

"I'm not afraid," Stennis replied, raising his voice loud enough for the whole yard to hear. "Fear is a commoner's trait, unfit for one with royal blood running in his veins."

"If that were true, you'd have already confronted them," Vatryn said.

Immediately, the prince veered and stopped mere inches in front of Vatryn's nose. "Do not dare speak to me so casually, dark elf," Stennis said, speaking to Vatryn as a lowly creature. "You are but a lowly elf, a foreigner no less. A blight that I will not acknowledge."

Vatryn however couldn't help but cock a brow at the prince. Someone had, at last, used the correct term for the Nerevarine and yet said they would not acknowledge him? It put such a smile of irony on his lips.

"My, how did I not realize that?" Vatryn gracefully bowed, hand and chin to chest. "However could I have lived without realizing I needed your wisdom in my life, your Highness? Why clearly trying to clear your name was such a foolish endeavor."

"I need no evidence to prove my innocence. I am a prince, not a common thief who steals eggs at the market," Stennis said proudly as he began to pace back and forth to the crowd. "You all stand before royal majesty! And you dare raise your hands against it! In this world, there are crimes that can be forgiven and crimes that cannot. Just as a mother killing her own child cannot be forgiven, a crime against one anointed by the gods themselves also cannot be condoned! He who raises his hand against divine right is not worthy to walk this world."

"And what about he who poisons the Virgin of Aedirn," a peasant countered.

"Firstly, Saskia is alive, so no one can blame me for her death," Stennis said. "Secondly, you have no proof that it was I who tried to murder her! And thirdly, I assure all gathered here, I won't rise above the law. However, only she, the Virgin of Aedirn, can judge me."

"Bollocks!" another peasant countered. "What if Saskia don't get well? Who's gonna judge you?"

"I believe she can be cured. But if the gods decide otherwise, we'll summon a coven of the wise who can pass a just sentence," Stennia replied and met with boos.

"Well said!" Silgrat exclaimed. "Those are the words of a true sovereign."

"I am the one you should all look to for guidance," Stennis said, pleading with a hand over chest. "Let my deeds be the flame that lights up your darkness."

A rehearsed speech if Vatryn had ever heard of one. Better than some made by Hlaalu councilors as the mob became quieter, striking some of their hearts if barely. But not Vatryn though.

The prince was simply another lying noble just like the rest. That think that they and only they can understand anything. That their supposed divine rule made them untouchable, miniature gods that everyone was expected to bow to and do as they pleased.

The peasants were right to be angry, afraid. They had just found out what equality and freedom meant and so greatly feared that it would all come to an end. Even though the evidence didn't point to the prince as guilty, Vatryn felt as though he should give the man to the mob. Iorveth did mention the need for royal blood and the prince getting slaughtered would send a message to the nobles.

"_But that's too easy,_" Vatryn sighed.

He took hold of Trueflame's hilt and lifted it high above, its fiery blade igniting out its embers. Gasps of fear took hold of the mob and of the nobles. The prince most especially as the blade wavered towards him, his own head perfusing from the heat.

"Listen up all of you!" Vatryn called.

"Master Vatryn, what are you doing?" Skalen asked, his dwarves and the knights drawing their weapons out towards the Dunmer.

"Just getting all of your attention," Vatryn answered as he sheathed away Trueflame. "Besides, if I wanted to kill the prince, I wouldn't have done it like an amateur."

Stennis raised his voice. "You dare raise your blade against-"

"I did and I'll do it again if I have to. Now listen," Vatryn glared, coiling the prince back. "I don't care what you said, you are guilty. Even though there's no evidence that you poisoned Saskia, there is evidence that you knew about the plot and did nothing. If you respected Saskia, then you would have said something."

Stennis gave no response save for puckered lips and balling fists.

"But no, you don't... do you?" Vatryn shook his head. "If anything, her death would have been a blessing to you."

"You know nothing, elf," Silgrat remarked.

"I know enough from hearing and speaking around town," Vatryn stated matter of factly. "The prince's daddy is dead but he still hasn't taken the crown yet. Probably because a certain 'virgin' makes it all but impossible for him to be king of a country especially if half of the country might break away. If a lowly creature like me can deduce that, then what would call those gathered here?"

With the mob as a backdrop, Vatryn left Stennis and nobles agape, lost of words as the peasants cheered a hurrah of ayes.

"That's right!"

"We're not as dumb as you think we are!"

"We'll serve justice for Saskia!"

"No!" Vatryn bellowed his voice in a grovel, halting the mob's rattles. "You will all do no such thing!"

"Huh?" the crowd exclaimed.

"What I just said is true. The prince, I think, is guilty," Vatryn reiterated. "But that's not for me to decide or for any of us. The prince has a right to a free trial, regardless of guilt."

"Fucking hell, just who side are you on gray elf?" one of the dwarves asked.

"The one that doesn't end in a lynching," Vatryn answered. He turned to face the crowd and spoke with vigor. "I may be a foreigner but I've seen situations just like this. Nothing good ever comes out of this. You'll think that might makes right and that all wrongs can be avenged with blood, regardless if they're real or not. Commoner or noble, no one will be safe. If you really believe in Saskia's ideals, then you know I speak the truth."

"And what if Saskia dies, eh? Who will give us justice?"

"She won't die," Vatryn declared. "I'll make sure of that. And if I don't… well, you can kill me too I guess. Failing to save your savior's life and all. Now if you're done rioting-"

"Just who the hell are you?"

Vatryn paused at the question. It struck a somewhat familiar blow to him. A crowd of different factions all gathered around him, perplexed by his words and actions. An enigma, they thought he was. But honestly, it wasn't any more simple and he couldn't help to chuckle.

"Someone who meddles when they don't need to," Vatryn casually passed through the crowd. "You may call it annoying, idiotic, or even suicidal. But really… I'm just a Dunmer that believes in doing what's right."

The Nerevarine stopped as he reached the end of the yard and gave a final glance back. "And it's Vatryn. Vatryn Brios and you can call me the Nerevarine."

* * *

Maybe the humans of this world weren't as bad as Vatryn assumed? The cynic in him told him that it was the Scoia'tael and Skalen dwarves' presence that prevented the mob from going after the prince as he was hauled away. But the idealistic part said that Saskia's idea and his own words reached their hearts.

"Fuck you, gray elf."

Or it was neither and all he had done was draw ire from the peasants.

"Maybe I should have let them kill Stennis," Vatryn muttered as he leaned against a wall.

"Too late to regret your decisions now," Iorveth said, gaining Vatryn's attention. "By the way, what the hell was that spell you performed?"

"Not spell, scroll," Vatryn said, pulling one out. "Where I'm from, we can enchant spells into scrolls and allow people to use spells without knowing how to actually cast it themselves. It's a lot easier and cheaper than having to learn the spells yourself."

"And anyone can just cast a fireball at each other?" Iorveth asked, cocking a brow.

"Of course not," Vatryn replied. "First of all, when I say cheaper, it's relative. These things are pricey and no peasant is spending all their money on one. Also, the scrolls can only be used once so it's not in your interest to waste them. Which I just did and now I don't have any more Calm scrolls."

"Calm?"

"It's in the spell's name, makes you calm," Vatryn shrugged. "Though its effects are shorter the more people you cast it on."

Iorveth sighed. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you? Regardless, furious peasants are the least of our concern."

"Curing Saskia, I know. And Phillipa needed royal blood right? Using Stennis wouldn't be a good idea now, it would just invite more rioting."

"Who cares what they think? Saskia's life is more important than the rabbles of peasants."

"And I doubt Saskia won't want to wake up to a city fighting itself, especially with an army ready to siege the place," Vatryn stated, for Iorveth to grunt in response. "Hmm… speaking of that army, don't they have a king or something accompanying him?"

"Henselt?" Iorveth huffed. "That's madness trying to go into that mist. Stealing Stennis away would be easier."

"You know when someone says easier, that usually involves a lot of killing," Vatryn said. "Killing that I would have to do so no. If I'm getting royal blood, it'll have to be from that Henselt."

"Well in that case," Iorveth quipped. "I'm going to get reinforcements."

"Reinforcements?"

"Saskia can't hope to defeat Henselt with this rabble," Iorveth petulantly replied. "If we're going to have a chance, we'll need more Scoia'tael. Four more units lying in hiding in the east… it's time to summon them."

"You're sure you can make it back in time?" Vatryn asked.

"I must," Iorveth spoke with determination, turning around. "Three days it should take me."

"Wait," Vatryn grabbed Iorveth's wrist. "I…"

The Dunmer mused whether to tell the elf commando about his intentions to cure Saskia himself. The Scoia'tael had helped him so far and it would be wrong to keep this information from him. Yet the way he spoke so fondly of the woman… it wouldn't sit well for a stranger to offer some unknown elixir.

"I think that witcher Geralt is... here," Vatryn clunked around his words as he released Iorveth. "You know since Roche was after you and I saw him with the guy."

"We'll deal with them when we have too," Iorveth said, leaving Vatryn to watch as he left.

"Yeah… deal with them."

* * *

At last, Vatryn could investigate the lead about the sorceress. No more distractions for the day, making his way down into the rocky valley. Creatures, bandits, all trivial things. He didn't even bother fighting seriously, jogging by as he casually swung Trueflame.

And he would continue this routine until he came upon a bloodied wooden carving sitting at a fork on his path. It was an idol of some kind, to a god judging by the flowers arranged on it. Though judging from the blood and bits of human ears and bones, clearly not in a long while.

"And that path," Vatryn turned to the right. "Has even more of the same. The dwarf did say that he thought the troll would eat the sorceress."

The dunmer's intuition herded him up the rightward path and brought him in awe to what lay ahead. It was a large humanoid creature, tall as a dwemer centurion. Steely blue skin, pronounced teeth, and elven like ears. The creature was draped in various pieces of cloth, leather, bones, and furs.

Vatryn saw it all from a glance but what concerned him was the fact that the creature was stirring a giant pot of red liquid, bubbling and spilling out. A foot popped out the top and the creature took and ate it like a chicken leg.

"Disgusting," Vatryn shuddered.

The creature turned to look up at the Nerevarine, who quickly fell into a stance. Holding Trueflame by the hilt, he prepared for a fight. But a fight did not arrive. The creature merely stared back at him, gnawing on the foot. Then it did something that caused Vatryn to lose his bearing.

"Who you?!" the creature asked loudly with chunks of flesh falling between his teeth.

It could talk. A talking creature that resembled the ogres of Cyrodiil Vatryn read about. But this one talked, which would imply some intelligence, and with it, a chance to gather information. Well... there was a first time for anything.

"Uh… no," Vatryn softly replied as he slowly approached. "I am a dark elf."

"Dak - elf? Elfy thing like in soup?" the creature asked.

Vatryn jerked back, eyes widened. "Um…" he replied, looking to the soup as an elf ear rose. "No, I'm a different kind. The bad, dirty, untasty kind."

"Oh… you want try soup? It goood," the creature smiled.

"No thanks, another time maybe," Vatryn scratched his neck. "Anyways Mr. ogre…"

"No me ogre! I troll!"

"Sorry," Vatryn bowed. "Mr. troll then. Where's the woman you took?"

"Take none!" the troll stomped.

Vatryn raised his hands. "Easy, I'm not saying that you did. A dwarf told me that you took a red-headed woman."

"Midge stupid. Sick she - me carry. Her help, feed, pet, but run she go… Missus first run go, redhead then. All gone. Soup only stay."

The troll sounded sad as he spoke toward the end, trailing his head down to only glance at the soup. And when he said missus… the troll had a wife?

"I'm kind of lost," Vatryn told the troll. "How about you explain what happened here?"

The troll grunted. "Me in gullies, missus in gullies. Bones found, nice to gnaw. Then wham! Humies from sky fall!"

"Fell from the sky, huh? Are you sure?"

"Troll true tell. Flash! Crack! Two humies drop where dumbbells' ship. Humie man, big as troll, and womyn. I go see."

"The man… was he bald, big giant arms, two swords?"

"Elf likes man?" the troll asked.

"Wha-" Vatryn stumbled out his words. "No! What's wrong with you?"

"Haa," the troll laughed. "Elf likes man. Bald I see. Run he go to the gullies, leave redhead humie… Dumb."

"_Look who's talking?_"

"Huh?"

"Hmm… cough," Vatryn said into his fist. "What about the red-headed woman?"

"Oh… see I go. Redhead groan. Her pain. Closer I creep. Run she not go. Leg her grow. Take me humie woman, go home."

The troll lowered his head again and spoke softly.

"Missus angry," the troll continued. "Call humie wench thinbones. Hungry missus, yap and yap, then run go own for food. Give water redhead humie. Leaves cover leg. Humie redhead nice, pet she when sleeps. Redhead have kerchief, nice to sniff… Missus come back, elfs in hand. Drop thinwench, idgit, she call."

Now the troll began to sound like a complaining husband.

"Missus yap 'Rap give'," the troll quoted in a high pitch. "Troll say not - nice to feel, stench troll like. Missus say: 'She or me'. Troll think: nice redhead, nice rag stench. Troll missus tell. Missus troll with log beat and run go. Even left elfs..."

A troll with marital problems. Easily another chapter in one of Vatryn's weird adventures to tell. "Well, I'm sorry you're going through a rough patch," the Dunmer said. "What happened to the redhead anyway?"

"Redhead run go," the troll replied. "Pain gone. At night - troll sleep. Windhowl empty."

Another dead end for the Nerevarine. He held up his hands, pressing them to the back of his head as he tried to think. The sorceress couldn't have gone far. There were only two places she could go; through the mist or the city, the latter of which he would have seen.

"And since it's on my way there to the king, I might as well," Vatryn muttered as he gave a last glance to the troll. "Thanks for the information, troll. I hope you and your… wife work things out."

"Missus good," the troll whimpered, plopping down to the ground. "Be lone - be terrible. Windhowl empty."

There it went. The cry of someone in distress, someone in need that urged Vatryn to get involved. Even though it was a creature, Vatryn sympathized with the plight of being alone.

"Listen… troll," Vatryn let out a weary sigh. "How about I bring your mate back to you? You can apologize and make it up to her."

"Elf missus come back?" the troll asked.

"Sure, missus come back," Vatryn reiterated. "I'll make sure she comes back safe and sound to you. Do you know where she went?"

"Hmm… gullies. Missus gullies like, gullies me like…"

"Well don't you worry. I'll make sure she's safe."

* * *

"Seriously?!"

It was as if Vatryn was cursed to nearly fail at what he pledged to do. Transporting to another world, peasant riots, and now mercenaries trying to kill the female troll. Did the universe have to make it hard for heroes like him?

"I'm not going to repeat myself, go," Vatryn told to the several mercenaries surrounding him. "And leave the troll alone."

"We ain't taking orders from an elf," one of the mercenaries answered. "We-"

Vatryn flung a dagger, hitting square in the exposed neck of the mercenary. His own allies didn't even react for a second, gasping at the second as the mercenary gurgled in his own blood.

The day was long enough for the Nerevarine, rushing down several of the mercenaries with their own weapons. Axe to the chest, sword slashing into their visors, and even a twist of the neck. All fell with ease.

"Wait, wait, wait! Stop, we surrender!"

Vatryn stopped on a hinge, his borrowed sword mere inches away from two mercenaries' face.

"Spare us, gray elf," one of the mercenaries said as he and the other raised their arms. "We're worth a king's ransom."

"Do you seriously think I need money?" Vatryn said, showing off his armor itself as a point. "I told you already what I want. Leave the troll alone and go off somewhere else."

"You'll let us go?" the mercenary questioned.

"Stop asking questions about what I just said," Vatryn said, now annoyed as he tossed the sword away. "Now go."

"But we barely survived the mist," the mercenary said.

"Then surrender to Vergen then for all I care."

The mercenary grunted. "That would be new to me. I am Adam Pangratt, known as 'Adieu'."

"And I'm Vatryn Brios, known as the Nerevarine, who doesn't give a fuck," Vatryn replied. "Now, you can either go into the mist, die, or surrender to a dwarf named Cecil Burdon. Your choice."

The mercenary Adam and his compatriot exchanged a glance and nodded. "Alright, fine then, gray elf. Guess we can meet with the Dragonslayer."

"But Commander, weren't we supposed to kill the gray el-"

"Shut it!" Adam smacked the other mercenary.

"Woah, hold on now," Vatryn interceded, brandishing out Trueflame. "What did he mean by that? Who told you to kill me?"

"Nothing, he just has a concussion," Adam stammered out.

Vatryn then made a point to cough, directing the tip of the mercenary's neck to his sword.

"Síle de Tansarville told us," Adam relented. "Henselt has put out a bounty for a gray demon with elf ears and the sorceress offered us double on top of it."

"How?" Vatryn questioned. "The king never saw me."

"The witcher, Geralt of Rivia," Adam said. "Told the king all about you and rumors of you spread around the camp. The Gray Demon."

To say Vatryn was surprised was an understatement. Barely a month in another land and already he was making a name for himself.

"Damn," he said. "I don't know if I should be flattered or not? Okay, what else?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie. I know mercenaries have lots of things to do when it comes to coin. Now talk."

"Okay, okay," Adam relented. "The sorceress also told us to search for a witcher in the ravines. Big bald one with a snake medallion named Letho. We were to kill him and anyone else with him. Instead, all we found was a camp strewn with dead Scoia'tael. This Letho was responsible for the bloodbath and he did not act alone."

"Not alone?" Vatryn asked, his thoughts perplexed by the new information. "Where was this?"

"Somewhere on the other side of the mist. We found a trail, but then the mist descended. We got lost and emerged from it here."

Not alone? Vatryn kept paying back those words. That Letho was working with others and apparently crossed Síle. And he doubted that it was just the witcher she wanted rid of. Just what exactly has he gotten himself involved with?

Vatryn shook his head mentally and returned back to the men. "Alright, that's enough then. Now go."

"Right," the mercenary nodded and left with the other.

The whole conversation nearly made the Dunmer forget what he was actually there for. He rushed toward the female troll, grimacing concern. "Are you alright?" he asked, ready to reach for another health potion.

The troll nodded. "Humies troll see, to kill humies itchy. Would kill troll, sure. You other. Elf. Goood you help. Troll you help."

"That's right, help," Vatryn grinned with a smile. "You can help me in return by going back to your husband."

"No!" the female troll stomped. "Idgit humie redhead grope!"

"Ah, don't be like that. He misses you and regrets doing what he did."

"Tell him, 'too late!'."

If Vatryn were a child, he'd have moaned loudly in the troll's face. He was an adventurer for Azura's sake, not a marriage counselor. "I get it, he was paying attention to another woman. That was wrong of him. But the woman isn't there anymore so you can go back. It's the least you could do for me since I saved you."

"Troll don't want… but troll will," the female troll said. "For you other, you good."

Vatryn chuckled. "Nicest thing anyone ever said to me today. Well, come on then, Mrs. troll. I'll walk with you back."

The female troll nodded in understanding as she and Vatryn both made their way back to the male troll, who eagerly thumped in joy at their return.

"Missus back!" the male troll exclaimed. "Gooood. Troll like!"

"Me back for elfy asked," the female countered with snideness. "Stay away if elfy not ask."

"Missus wise," the male troll said.

The female troll grumbled. "Idgit you. Humie womyn grope."

These were quite the characters for Vatryn, watching as the two trolls, two creatures, bickered like old married couples. He was in awe of their conversation, at how wholesome it was in comparison to all the other strange things he ever witnessed.

"Looks like you two patched things up," Vatryn interjected as he looked up to the male troll. "Your lucky troll. Don't lose her again."

"No more, never 'gain," the male troll said. He then reached into his furs, pulling a large shell shaped like a horn. "Troll give horn. In danger, elf blow - troll come."

"Wow," Vatryn said with a noticeable eagerness in his voice. "Thanks. I'll be sure to use it."

"Take rap too," the female troll tossed a red bandana as it fell over Vatryn's head. "Stupid old buck."

"Uh, sure," Vatryn said as he pulled over the dirty item. "So long then."

With that quest done, Vatryn had once again proven his arrays in different skills. How he loved and hated when something simple usually led him to even more complexity. It's why he was frustrated as he stared at the bandana in hand.

"She's not just some mage, that's for sure," Vatryn gripped the bandana tight. "There's more going on with this, not just with her missing. Though it's not my business, I still don't like to leave things undone."

As he contemplated his next move, his gaze slowly turned deeper into the valley of ghostly mists and wails.

* * *

_**Kaedweni Camp Outskirts**_

"Vinson Traut. You're a little elusive?"

It had been days as Geralt began working on the blood curse, during which he uncovered hints of a conspiracy. And as it happened when one got too involved, the witcher found himself cornered by said conspirators in a secret underground dungeon.

"Not wise of you witcher to be alone," said Vinson, one of the conspirators. "I'm wearing Seltkirk's armor, you know. Pretty much makes me invincible."

"Give me the chainmail and I'll forget everything," Geralt replied. "Whistling Wendy, your plot, the coins."

"Your Dethmold's hound, I don't trust you," Vinson said, unsheathing his sword as the other conspirator did for their weapons. "Here's how it's going to go down: I'll kill you, take your swords and gold, and the gods will rain good fortune upon me for ridding them of a filthy mutant! Die!"

Vinson cried out his attack and swung down on Geralt. The witcher raised his sword in time to parry off him, shoving the man down as he faced towards the other attackers. A Dragon's Dream flung from his hand, engulfing and dazing them in a noxious cloud.

Igni followed up among Geralt's signs, exploding the cloud. Several died in an instant, charred to the muscle. Two screamed and hollered, running as flames engulfed and burned over their bodies before crashing into metal bars.

"Bastard!"

Geralt heard as he rolled for a clang of steel to ring where he stood. Vinson came back, striking with huge swings. Geralt easily parried them off and countered a finishing blow. Unfortunately, it did not turn out as expected and the sword merely grazed over Vinson's chest. So surprised he was that he barely reacted as the man swung back, feeling a small wind brushing over his nose.

"You see," Vinson yelled as he took steps back. "The armor makes me invincible."

Geralt grunted, readying both hands on his sword. "I'll just aim for the head."

"Nice try, freak," Vinson countered as the two began to circle each other. "But the armor protects-"

_Shhkt._

What the hell? Was Geralt hallucinating? It couldn't be but… it was. Two daggers impaled straight into Vinson's eye sockets. Blood splattered out in an instant as the man didn't even utter a cry of pain, merely standing like a zombie. His body just not realizing what had happened, collapsing over from gravity.

"Wait a minute," Geralt observed the daggers, noticing they were large and green. Foreign design. "V-"

A force knocked Geralt from behind and slammed him to the ground. A sharp piece pressed slightly with enough force against his neck, limiting his options.

"Hey there, witcher."

The voice, he recognized. Slowly, Geralt turned his head up and his eyes widened in surprise on none other than Vatryn.

"So," Vatryn leaned close. "We need to talk."


End file.
